Ghost rose to his feet in a grunt of pain and frustration. Shaking his head, he lay still for a few moments, letting his senses return to normal.

Blinking a few times, he stood up and straightened his posture. The first thing he did was check his equipment. His bag wasn't in his line of sight, but his pistol and knife were still in his possession.

He then looked around. The helicopter wasn't completely destroyed, the lights were still on. Thanks to the security plan put in place by William's team, the helicopter had not received any significant damage. However, it would fly no more.

Chris and Jill were on the ground. The man had hit his head, and there was blood running down his temple, but he seemed fine. The woman, meanwhile, was getting up, as was he.

Ahead, he saw the pilot and co-pilot coming out of the cockpit, disoriented. The co-pilot was in the pilot's arms, the side of his torso bleeding from a piece of iron stuck in his flesh.

Turning around, he picked up one of the rifles that had fallen to the ground and walked to the helicopter ramp.

He looked around. They had fallen in a dense part of the forest. But considering that, on the horizon, he could see one of the radio towers in the distance, he would say that it was close to the military base they had seen earlier.

Hm... it didn't sound like a coincidence if you asked him.

"Hunk!" He called out to his partner over the comms, since the other helicopter wasn't in the area.

The silence lasted for some time, and he growled angrily.

"Reaper, do you copy?!" He tried again, looking up at the dark sky. There were still a few long hours before dawn.

"... Ghost." Hunk's voice echoed through the communicator a few moments later, and Ghost sighed.

"What's the situation?" He asked, looking back and watching Chris get up with Jill's help.

"Oh, we stopped to buy breakfast." His companion's response made him roll his eyes. "We've got some minor injuries, nothing major... but I think the orphans are going to be a bit of a problem, they're not reacting very well at the moment."

Hunk said, and Ghost heard what sounded like an argument in the background. What a great time for them to have an attack.

"Can you see the tower on the military base?" He asked, turning around and re-entering the helicopter, starting to rummage through the supplies they had there.

"Yes. It's to our west." Hunk replied, and Ghost grabbed a few magazines of rifle bullets and his Desert Eagle.

"So you're northeast of us." He said, whistling at Chris, who looked at him. He then threw a vial of herbal mixture towards Redfield, which he caught in mid-air. "It seems like quite a coincidence that we fell so close to that military base, which should have been deactivated."

Hunk snorted from the other side.

"That's because it's no coincidence. We'll gather things around here, grab what we can, heal our wounds and meet up on the outskirts of the base." Hunk said, and Ghost nodded.

"Understood. I'll see you there. We have until dawn at the latest. If we lose communication, get out of here." Ghost said, waiting for confirmation. There were a few moments of silence.

"Roger that." Hunk replied, ending the call.

Ghost turned and walked towards the pilot and co-pilot, kneeling down next to them and looking at the wound.

"It's certain to have hit the lung." He said as he knelt down, looking at the co-pilot, who was having some difficulty breathing.

"Yes, but with the right medical treatment, he'll be fine. But we have to go soon." The pilot said, and Ghost nodded.

"Grab what you can as soon as possible, we're meeting Hunk, we've got until dawn." He said, getting up and walking towards Chris and Jill.

"How are you, Redfield?" Ghost asked, watching Chris wipe the blood on the side of his head and snort with some derision.

"He's always been a hardhead. His pride is hurt more by your question than his head by the fall." Jill said.

"I'm fine... how fucked are we?" The man asked, getting up rather slowly, refusing when Jill offered to help, and she raised her arms, muttering a "Typical Redfield" before re-holstering her rifle.

"Hard to say. Let's head north, carefully... a team of scouts, probably with Ada, should be coming to finish us off right now, so we have to go as soon as possible." He said.

"Do you think it was Ada?" Jill asked.

"Oh, it was definitely her. I just don't know which team is helping her this time." Ghost said, turning and walking towards the exit ramp. He soon stopped and turned to his two companions, apparently ready.

"Can you walk?" He asked the wounded man, who sighed slightly and nodded.

"I gave him a dose of herbs with a little morphine. He won't feel any pain, nor will he sleep. I'll keep an eye on him." The pilot said, and Ghost nodded.

"We have until dawn to get to that military base. We'll proceed with caution and in silence. We're in enemy territory and at a huge disadvantage. Follow me and only shoot when I tell you to. If you have to get any supplies, get them now." Ghost said, taking a tactical vest and putting it on his torso, putting his spare ammunition in his vest pockets, concentrating on the bullets from his rifle and his Desert Eagle, since he still had plenty of bullets left from his Silver Ghost.

Jill and Chris did the same, the woman taking the liberty of picking up a sniper rifle and putting it on her back. One never knows when they might need a little cover.

Ghost attached a night-vision scope to his rifle, as his glasses had been destroyed.

He looked at the group, and after they nodded, indicating that they were ready, they headed into the dense forest towards the military base.

Ghost in the lead, followed by the two pilots and finally Jill and Chris in the rear. The darkness of the forest helped to camouflage them, the only source of light being the flashlight that the pilot had in his hand, since Ghost could locate himself by his optical sight, and Jill and Chris did the same with their respective weapons.

They continued for a few minutes at a slow, silent pace. Everything was going well, with no problems in sight. That is, of course, until the forest suddenly fell silent.

Ghost signaled for them to stop, the pilot switched off the flashlight and they stood still, their senses alert for anything.

Ghost closed his eyes slightly, calming his breathing. The deafening silence of the forest made his heart beat like batteries in his ears.

His eyes focused on the movement in his optical sight, his ears heard the faint sound of footsteps in front of him, and his instincts screamed.

The agent crouched quickly, avoiding a fatal blow. The sound of air being cut off startled the others behind him, and he jumped back, firing at his attacker.

His shots hit the creature in front of him, which grunted and backed away, taking cover in the darkness of the forest.

The creature was similar to the tyrant Chris had faced before, only smaller and with a much more human appearance. A woman, normal, if it weren't for the huge clawed arms in her hands.

He was surprised, but the surprise was soon replaced by concern. That tyrant was following orders, so it made sense that she wasn't alone.

From the trees ahead, a team of well-equipped soldiers emerged with laser guns pointed in their direction.

"Fall back!" Ghost shouted, throwing himself to the side just as they pulled the trigger on their weapons.

They took cover against the surrounding trees, and the pilot threw his companion to the ground, behind a fallen log.

Ghost put his back against the trunk of a tree, gritting his teeth as he felt the bullets pass dangerously close.

The noise of the guns, along with the flash of their shots, obscured the sound of footsteps and the movement of the tyrant, who was moving with precision and speed towards Ghost, who was apparently its main target.

Ghost gritted his teeth again, raising his rifle and firing at the tyrant advancing towards him. The creature ignored his shots and raised its huge left arm in an attempt to crush him.

The agent then jumped again and rolled onto his side. Turning his body with the momentum of his movement, he positioned himself behind the tyrant, which quickly turned around, brandishing its right arm in an attempt to hit him with its claws.

The agent dodged as he ducked and, counterattacking, threw himself at the creature at the same time as picking up his Desert Eagle, firing it into the tyrant's stomach.

The monster bent over due to the power of the shot, and Ghost pushed the creature into the exposed area, using its body as a shield from the shots of the team ahead to reposition himself.

After reaching a certain spot, he pushed the tyrant forward while throwing two grenades. A hand grenade at the creature's feet, and a stun grenade towards the scouting team, throwing himself to the side shortly afterwards and approaching Chris and Jill.

Both grenades exploded. Chris came out from behind his cover and fired at the team, who began to spread out in an attempt to avoid the shots, and the group took the opportunity to approach the team while firing in their direction.

"I'll take care of the tyrant!" Ghost said as he saw the creature get up, and Chris nodded in his direction, glancing at him as he approached the creature.

Redfield turned to Jill and signaled for her to locate herself to the northwest, while he mobilized to the opposite side.

The pilot covering his wounded comrade reloaded his rifle and fired at the team ahead, buying time for his team to act.

The pilot grunted as the team returned fire, and he ducked, taking cover again. The team, seeing that they had split up, did the same. Two went towards Ghost, two went towards the pilot, and the other four were in charge of dealing with Jill and Chris, who had disappeared from their line of sight.

"Stay still and don't make any noise." He said to his wounded companion, just before getting up and running to the side while firing at his two opponents.

They took cover, but soon advanced towards him throwing stun grenades.

The pilot tried to take cover behind a tree, but he wasn't fast enough. The grenades exploded and he grunted disorientedly, staggering a few steps, temporarily deaf. But luckily, he could still see very well thanks to his helmet.

Gritting his teeth, he watched the two men approach him with their rifles raised. He quickly takes out his pistol and fires at them, hitting the weapons in their hands and their bodies. However, because they were wearing full armored military clothing, they barely felt the impact of the shots.

The pilot gritted his teeth as he saw them advancing towards him with combat knives in their fists.

He seemed to be at a disadvantage, they had armored clothing and were clearly trained. However, he wasn't on Hunk's team for nothing, and their mistake was not to have considered that.

The first to approach attempted a piercing blow to the pilot's neck, which he quickly deflected by stepping to the side and tilting his torso, and then countered with a punch to the man's neck, which as well as being the weakest part of his armor, caused him to be stunned by the blow, his airway temporarily obstructed.

Without giving him time to react, the pilot knocked him to the ground. Before he could do anything, the other man tried to pierce him in the chest with his knife, but the pilot quickly dodged and counterattacked with a strong punch to the helmet the man was wearing, causing him to stagger back a step, just long enough for the pilot to turn his body and land a kick to the side of the man's head, knocking him to the side.

The pilot then went in for the attack, but he was soon forced to stop and grunted as he felt the first man pierce the side of his torso, just above his waist, with the knife. Irritated, the pilot grabbed the man's arm, kicked his head and threw his body to the side, at the same time spinning around, breaking the man's arm.

The man grunted loudly in pain, and the pilot got up, only to be sent to the ground by a kick to his head, destroying part of his helmet.

Grunting, he opened his eyes slightly as he felt a weight on him, and in reflex, he forced his forearms against the forearms of the man above him, who was trying to drive his knife into his chest.

The pilot grunted, struggling to get the man off him. At a glance, however, he saw the other man stand up, a hand on his broken arm, and approach him at a rapid pace. Despair spread through his chest, and his mind worked fast thinking of a way out of the situation.

However, to his surprise, the approaching man was suddenly engulfed by a wave of flames that hit his back. He lit up like a beacon, and his screams began to echo around the place.

Glancing over, the pilot saw his fallen partner with a grenade launcher in his hand, and mentally thanked him. Taking advantage of the distraction, the pilot grabbed his own knife and, in one swift, powerful movement, drove the blade into the side of his attacker's neck.

Blood poured out in abundance, the man slowly lost his strength as he drowned in his own blood, and the pilot threw his body to one side with some violence, getting up shortly afterwards and walking towards his partner further ahead.


Chris ducked into the side of a tree, blinking and flinching a little when some of the shots hit the trunk he was covering.

Crouching down, he took a grenade from his tactical vest and threw it towards his attacker, who had taken cover.

Taking advantage of the small window of time, Chris changed his ammunition to armor-piercing bullets and waited for the right moment.

The grenade exploded and Chris stepped out from behind the tree, focusing the sights of his rifle on the man who had the same idea as him, and firing in his direction. The bullets hit the arm and chest of the man, who grunted in a mixture of pain and surprise when he saw that the shots had ignored the armor, and stepped back once more, taking cover again as he threw a grenade towards Chris.

Redfield stopped his advance and stepped out of the blast zone, gritting his teeth at the close proximity of the explosion. Turning around, he raised his rifle again, and through the optical sight saw the man retreating towards his partner.

Steadying the gun in his fist, he fired at the man while he was still running, hitting him a few times in the upper back, shoulder and arm.

The man fell to the ground, grunting as he dragged himself up.

Chris moved quickly towards him, putting a bullet in the back of his head, quick and easy. He tried to move towards Jill, but was interrupted by a hail of bullets that hit him in the side.

He grunted as he felt a sharp pain in his thigh and the side of his waist, throwing his body to the ground and rolling down, taking cover again behind a tree.

Shaking his head, he gasped as the pain eased. The herbal mixture he had drunk earlier was still working, and he quickly bandaged his thigh. His waist would have to wait until later, as he heard the other man's footsteps approaching him.

Throwing a light grenade, he stretched his arms out to the side and shot towards the man without really looking at him, still with his body behind cover, just to stop him getting any closer.

The light grenade exploded, and Chris stepped out from behind the tree, moving quickly towards the stunned man.

Landing a powerful punch to his head, he quickly positions himself behind the man, grabs him around the waist and throws him backwards, performing a perfect suplex, breaking the man's neck, who remained motionless.

Getting up, Chris ties a bandage around his waist and sighs as the pain recedes. He then looks around through the optical sight of his rifle and walks in the direction Jill had gone.


Jill ran through the undergrowth, her movements calculated and deliberate. Although she was as skilled as any other soldier, and was Chris's partner, her area was not direct confrontation. She was intelligent, calculating and preferred encounters in which a single movement was needed to end the confrontation, whether good or bad.

Her eyes ran quickly through the trees, her mind racing, analyzing the terrain to find the perfect spot.

The soldiers pursued her, their armored footsteps becoming louder. The woman clicked her tongue, the darkness of the forest neither helping nor hindering her in any way, but if anything, it was more of a disadvantage to her than anything else.

At one point, the woman spotted a rocky outcrop ahead and made a split-second decision. She ran towards the outcrop and, from her tactical vest, grabbed two stun grenades and threw them towards her pursuers.

The woman jumped onto the rocks, taking cover behind them just as the stun grenades exploded.

The soldiers were stunned and took cover, waiting for their senses to return to normal.

They looked at each other as they finally recovered, and quickly, they stood up and raised their weapons, observing the terrain in search of the woman. Slowly, they began to move, spreading out slowly to cover more territory and flank the woman. She threw those grenades to buy time to hide, since she wouldn't run away. In other words, she was close by.

Narrowing her eyes slightly, Jill examined the soldiers' armored clothing with her night scope. Highly fortified, but vulnerable around the neck and joints. She changed the bullets in her sniper rifle for the greatest possible damage.

When the first soldier came around the rock in which she was hiding, she pulled the trigger with precision. A well-placed shot to the neck, practically exploding the flesh and destroying part of the bones, almost causing the soldier's head to detach from his body and fall to the ground.

The moment the man's body fell to the ground, the second soldier approached quickly but cautiously, analyzing and studying the situation.

Using the distraction to her advantage, Jill pointed her sniper rifle at the soldier, who noticed her standing there. However, by the time he realized it, it was too late, and the woman shot him in the head, exploding his skull.

The woman snorted and stood up, putting the sniper rifle back on her back. She didn't have a BSAA title for nothing.

Jumping down from the rock she was standing on, she started running back to the group.


Without hesitation, the creature leapt towards Ghost, its movements agile and quick, precise in a way that indicated some kind of training. Surely a creature used for missions, intelligent enough to obey orders and even undergo some kind of training.

Ghost dodged the attack, watching the tyrant's claws dig into the ground. Raising his Desert Eagle, he fired at the woman's head, hitting both her head and upper chest, causing the humanoid creature to stagger back a few steps.

The tyrant's deformed head regenerated with some speed, and Ghost clicked his tongue, picking up his rifle and switching to B-type bullets.

Taking a few steps back, he fired at the tyrant, which again advanced towards him. The creature tried a vertical attack with its claws, which Ghost dodged by taking two steps to the side. Taking advantage of the momentum of its attack, the tyrant turned its body and, with its other arm, tried a horizontal attack.

Ghost was quicker and dodged it by ducking, and then he threw himself forward and let himself slide to the ground, shooting the tyrant in the flanks, who growled in annoyance and pain. Its voice was a mixture of feminine and monstrous.

The tyrant raised both arms and threw them down, trying to crush the agent, who in turn jumped to the side, dodging the attack.

The tyrant's powerful arms hit the ground, causing the ground to shake and a small cloud of dust to rise up.

The creature snorted, and its eyes focused, at a glance, on the gun that Ghost had practically pressed against its head and pulled the trigger, hitting the monster at point-blank range.

The bullets penetrated the monster's skull and passed through its brain. The creature roared in pain and staggered back a few steps, putting both hands on its head as it roared.

Its regeneration was slowed, the pain was acute, its senses were scrambled.

The monster flailed its arms around in desperation, hoping to hit the man, who took a few steps back and unloaded the magazine of his rifle into the creature, which fell to its knees on the ground.

That tyrant, although tough, was not like all the others. Its strength was on a par with some variants, but its resistance had been severely reduced for a greater focus on speed and agility.

For the world, it wasn't a very significant change, since that thing was capable of claiming countless victims in a short period of time. The danger was the same.

For him, it became easy. A weak variant, a mistake resulting from fear... in a way, he was even a little disappointed, he had expected more from variants designed to kill him.

Shaking his head, he reloaded his rifle, aimed at the creature's head, and pulled the trigger, until the monster's roars of pain ceased, until its body remained motionless, and its skull was nothing but a deformed mass.

As a precaution, he grabbed a grenade and dropped it into what was left of the thing's head, turning and walking away soon afterwards, heading towards his group and already some distance away when the grenade exploded.

He approached the spot where they had split up at a fast pace, and his eyes focused on the two men crouched further on, one of them with his back propped up on a fallen log. He sighed in relief, many of his companions had already died, he didn't want to lose even more.

His footsteps caught the attention of both of them, who looked in his direction, weapons at the ready. He just raised both his hands, still approaching.

"It's just me." He said, watching them calm down a little. His eyes looked analytically at the bandage on the side of the pilot's body. "Are you all right?" He asked, kneeling down next to them.

"Yes... we'll be fine. But Falconer here still needs medical attention." The pilot said, and his companion shook his head.

"I'm still alive... and I can still use my weapons. I'm not the priority." Falconer replied, and the pilot snorted.

"You're still alive, and we want to keep it that way. Let's hope we find Hunk soon, maybe the medical team can do something." The pilot said, and Ghost nodded in confirmation.

From the forest, they heard footsteps approaching, and the pilot shone his flashlight in the direction of the noises, relaxing when he saw Chris walking at a limp pace towards them with his rifle raised.

"Redfield... good to see you too." Ghost said, seeing the man sigh and lower his weapon, limping towards them soon after. He ran his eyes around, worried.

"Where's Jill?" He asked, and Ghost stood up, looking around, shaking his head in response.

However, before he could say anything, they heard the sound of footsteps nearby, and the aforementioned woman appeared from between the trees, approaching them at a calm pace. She looked fine. Sweaty, panting, she was probably running, but she was fine.

"Jill!" Chris approached her quickly, asking if she was all right.

Ghost briefly observed the two of them. It was obvious that there was something between them, and he looked away, scolding himself for intruding on something that had nothing to do with him.

"There are still a few hours until dawn. We can rest here for a while, nurse our wounds." Ghost said, without waiting for an answer, walking towards the bodies of the men who had attacked them.

Chris grunted slightly as he sat down. He propped his back against a tree and sighed, watching Jill approach him and kneel beside him.

"I'm fine, I already-" She ignored him completely and began to undo the bandage on his thigh, analyzing his injuries.

He just rolled his eyes. Why didn't the women in his life listen to him?

"Have you managed to contact Claire?" Jill asked, and Chris ducked his head slightly.

"No... which isn't exactly strange, she never takes her cell phone. Still... I sent her a message. I hope she sees it, at least. But the sooner we go, the better." He replied, and Jill nodded in agreement.

"Simmons is pretty dangerous... if he wants to do something, it's not hard for him to cover it up." Jill said, just highlighting a fact.

"Maybe... but he can't buy Terrasave... and he's not stupid enough to do it in plain sight, he'll try to take them to some isolated place or something. They're too smart, they won't fall for it, even if they didn't get my message." Chris said, and as she finished treating the man's wounds, Jill nodded to him and got up, walking towards Facolne, checking on him, seeing if there was anything she could do.

Chris stared at the floor for a few moments, his concern palpable, but, as on most occasions when he had been worried about those two, all he could do was hope and pray that they would be all right.

They're strong, they're skilled... they'll be fine.

Raising his eyes, he looked at Ghost with a certain curiosity. The agent was returning with a small bag of grenades in his hand and one or two submachine guns on his shoulder.

He also, to his surprise, looked worried. The fact that he had gone to get those men's equipment proved that he wanted to occupy his mind with something, and it showed. Which was curious.

Redfield sighed, still finding it hard to wrap his mind around the fact that that agent was the same cop who had once saved his sister. The world really was a small place, a big coincidence... well, maybe not, they were related to a man known in the fight against bio-terrorism and were part of an organization that was also known for its efforts for the cause.

Perhaps they were destined to meet again.

"You said you made a choice." He began, catching Ghost's eye, who stared at him for a moment as he put his weapons down. "Do you regret it?"

Since he was there, he might as well try to find out more about the supposed hero.

"You know, I asked myself that question a few times, a long time ago. Before I surrendered to my new reality and forgot my old life. And the funny thing was that the answer came almost immediately." Ghost said, checking the ammunition in his rifle, before raising his face and staring at Chris.

"No, I don't regret it. I was the kind of guy who wouldn't think twice about saving someone." Chris snorted slightly. He was such an unknown.

"Sorry for the disbelief, but as far as I know, you met in Raccoon. Hard to imagine someone exchanging his life for two strangers' lives." Chris said, and Ghost let out a short laugh.

"The world is cruel, it always has been, but I wasn't. I was too hopeful, I had too much faith in people. I firmly believed in my ideals and I didn't care if the world tried to bring me down for it or if people thought I was naive and stupid. I, as a cop, as a man of principle, would never let a child and a woman like Claire die, not in front of me, especially not like that." He replied, sighing with some regret and looking at the watch on his wrist, sending an emergency message to Walter, even though there was no signal.

Chris stared at him for a few more moments until he relaxed a little. Again, that kind of thinking, that kind of action, was not something you saw in just anyone.

And he had proved more than once that he was a decent guy, and deep down, Chris could relax at finally seeing an ally in this not-so-unknown agent.

"... Why, exactly, did you never contact them?" Chris asked, unable to contain his curiosity. It was the least of it, he had seen both girls' sides, now he could see his own. "They were in pretty bad shape, broken... a call from you would have helped a lot."

Ghost sighed, snapping the bones in his fingers, thoughtful for a while.

"Because I couldn't. At first, all I could do was email you to find them." He said, and Chris snorted, ducking his head.

"Now it makes sense..." He muttered, more to himself than to the agent.

"The deal is that I could check them on a computer if I wanted to. But I felt it was a breach of their privacy. And I couldn't contact them because our organization was, and still is, a big secret. The less contact with the outside world, the better. And over time, the more involved I became in this world, the less my thoughts went back to them. And in the end, I just hoped that they would live well." He replied, probably saying more than his persona would have liked.

He'd been talking a lot lately, and while he didn't mind it too much, another part of him was scolding him.

"... Well, I get it. At first, when they told me the story, I was angry with you. But now I think I should thank you. What you did, I'll never forget." Chris said, and Ghost stared at him. The two men maintained eye contact for a while, a sense of sympathy in both their gazes.

"But your family... to go this long without contacting them." Chris said, and Ghost raised his head, walking a couple of steps to the side to get a better look at the dark sky.

"They had nothing to do with it... they didn't need to know even if I could tell them. But now they're in danger of being targeted because of me, and that makes me..." He didn't finish his speech, taking a deep breath and clenching his fist with some force. "If anything happens to them... my parents, my sister..." Chris arched an eyebrow.

"Do you have a sister?" he asked.

"Yes, Mathilda... she's a bit older than Sherry, by a year or two." He sighed once more, closing his eyes briefly, ignoring Chris's gaze on him.

Redfield sympathized with him. Looking at it another way, he was nothing more than another victim of bio-terrorism. A victim who learned to retaliate.

"Come on! We've been here long enough! Falcone needs treatment and the sooner we go, the better!" He said loudly, and the group quickly got ready.

They walked for a few more hours through the dense forest. In the distance, the first rays of sunlight were timidly kissing the horizon, and by the time even the darkest corners of the forest were illuminated, they had reached the outskirts of the military base.

The entrance is marked by a rusty gate, its once imposing structure now corroded by time and neglect. Faded insignia and worn warning signs serve as cryptic symbols of the base's former importance, a stark contrast to the overgrown foliage entwining the barbed wire fence.

The sight would be one of total abandonment were it not for a few tents standing near the entrance. Parked military vehicles and a helicopter parked on the flat area ahead.

A few soldiers were walking around the temporary camp. All of them wearing exoskeletons and heavily armored clothing.

They had enough armor-piercing ammunition to go against them, as well as some weapons that Ghost had taken from the bodies.

But they still couldn't, Hunk's group hadn't arrived yet.

"Reaper, do you copy?" He asked through his communicator, signaling for them to take up position hidden by the vegetation.

"Ghost, come in." His partner's voice echoed through the communicator.

"We're on site. Enemies in sight. What's your position?" He asked, kneeling down and carefully observing the movements of the soldiers ahead.

Ada wasn't in sight... he'd say she'd already left. If she had been confident that she could kill them, she would have gone along with the previous group, tried to flank them, catch them off guard.

"We're on our way, we've had a few problems consisting of two tyrants and an execution team." Ghost snorted low.

"So did we. We only faced one tyrant, though." Hunk laughed low.

"Jealous. What's the situation there?"

"They've set up a small camp. They have around ten, maybe fifteen enemy soldiers. Two military cars, a military truck and a CH-53E helicopter." He explained the situation, and Hunk was silent for a few moments.

"We're not too far away... we can draw the attention of some of these soldiers. As soon as they move away, you move in and kill the rest, flanking the first group."

"Sounds like a plan. Are you guys okay?" Ghost asked.

"Yes, just some minor injuries... unfortunately, one of the orphans died." He sighed with some regret, shaking his head with some frustration.

"Let's not let it be in vain then. We'll be waiting for your signal." Ghost said, signaling the rest of the group to get ready.


The woman blinked a few times, surprised, incredulous, even a little indignant. The officer's jovial face awakened memories she had tried hard to bury. His short hair, falling slightly over his left eye, his blue eyes as bright as the last time she had seen him.

She shook her head a little and her eyes lifted in search of Walter, who was already some distance away, talking about something with Ayala, entering the largest tent in the camp.

Without saying a word, she entered the tent next to her and placed the file on the table, ignoring Sherry's slow steps behind her.

Leaning on the table, she flipped to the next page, her eyes reading the written information with a certain haste.

Subject 06

Leon Scott Kennedy

Age: 21

Experienced Raccoon City survivor - high potential

Subject in training.

She read the words with quick eyes, and her gaze stopped on a photo where he was struggling, his face contorted in fatigue and pain as he held a tree trunk behind his back and walked along the sandy beach. In the corner of the photo, that masked agent, Hunk.

She put the photo to one side, which Sherry quickly picked up.

The file said about his contact with the virus and his resistance to it. It also said about the remnants of the G-virus in his body and the anomaly in his DNA, making him resistant to one of the most lethal viruses on the planet.

The virus acted on his body in conjunction with adrenaline, making him capable of superhuman feats. Moderate increase in strength, speed, endurance. High resistance to pain and exponentially increased reflexes.

Third month of training after the island test. Agent 06 progressing at great speed, survived the infernal week on the open sea.

She looked, with a slight grimace, conflicted feelings, at a photo showing Leon lying on the ground, his body covered in wounds, he was thin and looked in pain. He was wet and some burn-like stains were spreading across his torso.

Seventh month. Agent 06 broke the race record on the C circuit. Growing exponentially, he got used to the training routine.

The next photo showed Leon with a rifle in his hands, his body smeared with mud, his face serious, dark circles deep under his eyes and his eyes, once so bright, cold.

A knot formed in her stomach as she looked at the photos.

A photo where his hands and feet were tied and he was underwater.

A photo where he lay on the ground, blood on the side of his face and four pairs of feet surrounding him. Combat training, it looked like.

A photo of him fully dressed in military clothing and equipment, sitting with his legs stretched out on the sandy beach, the seawater halfway up his torso, his face contorted in a look of anger and determination. Endurance training at extremely low temperatures. From the state of his face, he had been in that position for hours.

Until, finally, there was a photo in which he was staring directly at the camera. Claire held the photo up to her face, swallowing some saliva, her stomach turning as she stared into those cold eyes. The handsome officer's face was now no longer visible, covered by the mask that now belonged to the agent called Ghost.

"... No way..." She murmured in a whisper, shaking her head as she discovered the mysterious man's true identity. It all made sense now.

That familiar sensation she felt whenever she was near him. Those deep-set eyes that she swore she had seen before.

She took a deep breath, feeling a knot forming in her throat as she was bombarded with information, as she was hit by old memories.

"Was it him... all this time?" She asked no one in particular, just words thrown to the wind.

The woman turned her face and looked at Sherry beside her, who was staring intently at the photos in her hand and those scattered across the table.

The girl stared at her... and Claire realized that she didn't seem surprised.

"... You... knew?" she asked. She knew the girl, knew when she was hiding something.

Sherry sighed, placing the photos in her hand on the table.

"I saw the scars when we went after you. I saw the scars on his chest, on his arms." She replied, and Claire slowly shook her head, staring at her in silent question. "Look, I wanted to tell you, but he asked me not to say anything. I tried to convince him to tell you."

Claire sighed, looking away... why he had gotten so close, why he had helped her all those times... now it made sense.

"That's not all... keep reading." Sherry said, and running her tongue along the inside of her teeth, Claire lifted the file again, finishing reading the information about the agent Leon had become.

Information that resembled what she had read in the file Ghost himself had given her.

His success rate... ninety-eight percent of successful missions. The other two percent were due to setbacks, completed after the time limit... but successful nonetheless, making his success rate one hundred percent.

Details of his missions, his achievements, his impact on the world of bio-terrorism...

Until she came across a photo of herself... herself and Sherry. She blinked a few times, raising the photo in her hand, recognizing the location of the photo.

She was still wearing some of the clothes she had picked up in that abandoned hotel just outside Raccoon. Next to her, holding her hand, was Sherry, her face raised, looking at someone who was cut out of the photo, but whom she knew well.

Putting the photo aside, she began to read the file which, apparently, said something about her.

Ghost survivors - Claire Redfield, Sherry Birkin...

Threat - High.

Infected, virus mutated inside their bodies... survived the initial contagion, one hundred percent compatibility.

Order to kill.

She stared at those words for some time, her hands slightly trembling, her mouth dry, and the confusion in her mind slowly giving way to realization.

All those questions she'd had, all those doubts running through her mind, the thoughts and urges that came back occasionally... even some of her nightmares. It all made sense now.

She had always known that he hadn't simply disappeared because he got tired of them, or because he was a bad person deep down. It wouldn't have made sense to think that after all.

But never in her life had she thought that he had exchanged his life for theirs, two complete strangers.

She gasped slightly, controlling the sudden urge to cry that rose in her throat, and a shiver ran through her body.

"You... knew." She said/asked in a hoarse voice, without looking at the girl next to her.

"He told me..." Sherry replied quietly, careful with her words.

Claire shook her head and leaned on her arms, putting the file aside.

"And you didn't think you should tell me?!" She asked, loudly now, turning to Sherry and standing up. The girl wasn't intimidated, despite her altered tone. There was frustration in the woman's voice, not anger.

"He asked me not to tell you!" She replied.

"So what! I deserved to know!" She replied, running both hands through her hair and getting up in a hurry. "Shit! How can I just remain ignorant when he sold his life for ours?!" Sherry lightly clenched her own fist in front of her body, understanding the woman's frustration.

Claire took a few deep breaths, trying to control her own emotions. She blinked a few times, wiping away the shy tears that were afraid to flow from her eyes.

Those youthful blue eyes, so alive years ago, but now as cold as rocks of ice, tired beyond belief... the things he must have gone through, what he must have suffered while she was living with no idea of what was going on in the dark.

It made her sick, her stomach churned.

"He said he made a choice." She said quietly, and Claire snorted.

"Except he didn't feel he had a choice!" She replied stiffly, pacing back and forth with a troubled expression, a mixture of frustration, sadness and anger. "You fucker! Why didn't he want to tell me that?! Asshole! Did he even consider saying anything?!"

She turned to Sherry, who in turn shook her head, approaching at a slow and somewhat uncertain pace.

"I told him how you were. How much we suffered at the time. He said it was better for you to go on believing that he was dead, or not to think about him." She said, and Claire laughed with a certain mockery.

"Oh, who is he to say what's best for me?! Son of a bitch." Claire growled, taking a few more deep breaths, trying to calm down, clear her mind.

It was a simple thing, but difficult to do when her feelings were fighting fiercely within her being.

"Look... I know you're angry with him. Frustrated, at least." Sherry said, and Claire ran her hand through her hair.

"I'm not angry about... I mean, I am, but more about the fact that I had to have a fucking target on my back to find out the truth." She clicked her tongue, focusing her eyes on the file on the table again. " Was it really that hard for him to just tell me? What did he think I'd do?" Sherry shrugged.

"Probably punch him... and break his jaw." She joked, and Claire snorted in annoyance and amusement.

"He'd survive." She sighed. "It's just that... these last few weeks, I've felt us getting so close... and I don't know how to feel, what to expect... fuck, he's literally traded his life for ours." She sat down again.

"That's so fucked up." She muttered, more to herself than to Sherry.

"When I confronted him, he said that the fact that we were living our lives, as best we could, was enough for him." Sherry said, and Claire continued to stare at the table, digesting those words thoughtfully.

"He was broken, cold, thought very little of life... but it's a fact that these last few weeks he's improved a lot since you got closer. The proof is that he talks more, jokes more." Claire smiled, ducking her head.

"I should have known it was him... those jokes were terrible." They both smiled.

"Good to know that some things haven't changed." Claire straightened her posture, put the photos back into the file and closed it, looking at the letters on the first page for a while longer, until she stood up from the chair.

"I think he and I need to have a talk." She said after a few moments, tucking the file under her arm.

"You really need to. It'll be good for both of you." Claire looked at her, nodded slightly, agreed with the girl and walked slowly out of the tent.

"I'm still gonna punch him, though." She said as she left the tent.

"Good thing he can take it." Sherry said, following the woman into the tent that Walter had entered with Ayala.

They entered the tent, finding Walter standing next to Ayala, who was sitting typing something on a keyboard and watching the three monitors in front of her with a map and satellite images of some location.

Walter turned as soon as they entered, and approached in short strides.

"Ah, good... I assume you've finished reading." He said, and with a sigh, she held out the file back to the man.

"Yes, it was... very enlightening." She replied, and Walter took the file back.

"I hope you understand the secrecy, our organization was a complete secret. It still is, but, ahm, our situation is complicated. Hard to say if we still have an organization." Walter said.

"I thank you for saving us, I really do. But that wasn't a request from Le... Ghost." Claire said, and Walter smiled slightly.

"I watched both him and Hunk become what they are. Over time, we became friends, and I saw first-hand what this life did to them. I just want to see them well." He replied.

"You're a good man, Walter." Sherry said, and although the man's smile widened, he snorted with a bit of derision.

"By all means, no. But I appreciate it." He said, clearing his throat and shaking his head, as if dispelling some kind of thought. "Now... I have good news. Your brother and the team are already on their way. They should reach the BSAA in a few hours." The news made the two smile with relief, and their eyes followed the man as he walked out of the tent. They followed soon after.

"I can't let you leave yet, for obvious security reasons. But you'll be able to go on your own when they arrive. I've already sent a message to Hunk explaining your situation and he's probably already explained it to Chris." Walter explained as he walked through the camp, and the two looked at each other a little confused as to where he was taking them.

"Well, Ghost asked me to take care of it until we were mobilized to face Albert, but I don't think he'll mind if I hand it over to you now." Walter said, pulling something out of his pocket and staring at the two girls' confused expressions.

"Hand over' what?" Sherry asked.

"A gift." Walter said, throwing something towards Claire, who caught it in mid-air.

Lowering her gaze, she stares with even more confusion at the keys in her hand, and then, looking at Walter again, he points to the right.

Following the path he pointed down, the woman's eyes widen and her mouth falls open, staring in disbelief at the gift.

Sherry, next to her, giggled like a little child, and Claire shook her head at the sight of the Harley Davidson parked between two military vehicles.

"We really need to talk."