7/25/99 4:30PM

Albert Wesker leaned back into his chair, his office was dark. Not that it mattered, his assistants were always fussing with the damn lights. He always just left them off out of habit. He could still see everything: the bar with his Steuben glasses, Chaise lounge area, his bay window, his lacquered desk he was currently sitting at. He supposed leaving the lights off made him some sort of boogey man figure to everyone else. Albert pondered on it, he was fine with it in all honesty. He didn't have to deal with annoying underlings. In addition, he got to leave off his shades. He had grown fond of them, but he didn't want them on all the time. The only person who really saw him was his receptionist, Ms. Alexeev and she was wise to keep her distance.

He looked down at his paper work, nothing he wanted to do. There were expense reports and all the scientific research data they had yielded. Interesting, but not what he wanted to do. He flicked up a small compartment on his desk, switching a knob a small TV screen lit up.

Claire was cradled in the small cage he had left her in. Probably not the wisest of his decisions, but he wants her fearful. He'll take her to a suitable chamber for her to rest later and he'll have one of his better scientist do some preliminaries on her. No, he thought, better do it himself.

What was it Spencer's nag of a wife always said, 'want something done right? Do it yourself!' He couldn't in the life of himself remember that old biddies name. He tapped his pen on some pharmaceutical drivel. He forgot how exhausting it could be to run a company, well. He was actually running it now, not just watching. Albert let his eyes wander back to the young woman on the screen. She was slowly moving herself in the cage. Making calculated movements. Simultaneously, she was pulling the sheet towards her and trying to look around. He regrets giving her a sheet at all. She must be so frightened, he crossed his legs.

He let his hand wander to the panel under the screen, he pressed a button and the room was immediately illuminated. The light would wash out everything. Much too bright for a human, a simple tactic. "That should stop her from finding her surroundings." He muttered, to no one in particular.

He knitted his fingers together observing the young minx in his pen. Albert knew he wouldn't get to her tonight. He would make some time to officially get acquainted with the Redfield sibling. He was remiss about the cage. It would mess up her back, and he couldn't have that. With a frown, he remembered he had to get to Steve on the fourth basement floor. The boy was floating in a vat, ready for use.

He began to ponder going to dig for Alexia's remains. She had become a tough being, surely there'd be leftovers. She could be useful still. Though he had all he needed in Steve, but that wouldn't stop over enthusiastic rival companies bringing her back. Though it was unlikely. He had all the help he needed with his sister Alex too. And if he were to bring back a specific scientist it would be his old partner William. Claire struggled in the cage.

This was good. It pleased him to see her squirm. He adjusted himself in his chair, adjusting his legs he made sure nothing shown. Not that anyone would see a throbbing erection in the dark, but precautions are always needed.

He wondered how long it would take and if he could make her go blind, it would be fun. He almost laughed at the thought of her grouping around in eternal dark. Though he'd hate to do it. In another life, he'd surely taken her as a mistress of sorts, but in this one he has that buffoon Chris in his way. He let his eyes wander back to his paper work. Nothing exciting.

He then focused on the sounds around him. The usual office chatter really. He would begin to slice open Steve soon. Albert couldn't really recall if he was alive or not. He was busy listening to some chatter about some parasite in Spain: Las Plagas. It seemed like a lost venture. Viruses were the way to go in his opinion, but…a sample could be good for business, he made a note of it. He would have to get Ms. Wong on it. Then again, he had heard it's in its infancy, so he'd better wait or at least get someone on the inside for him.

The afternoon light glinted behind his offices blinds, peaking through cracks. He bet it was warm, sometimes he missed the heat. It was too distracting, cold always keeps people attentive. Looking back to Claire he found Alex helping her out of the cage, "Shit." He pounded the desk, cross. He wanted her to be his secret. His sister dearest always had to poke into his business. She would probably find something to use her in. Alex shouldn't even be working today. He clicked off the TV.

He caught a glimpse of his red eyes in dark TV screen. Even though it's been a while he's not quite used to this adjustment. He set his glasses back on.

"Mr. Wesker." His assistant knocked on the door.

"Yes, what is it?" He barked.

"You have that boardroom meeting in five minutes." She smiled, squinting to see into the office. He pitied her really, she was a fine young woman. It'd be a shame if she died. Most of his employees go down with the ship. If they aren't too careful with how they handle Claire they could have Chris on their hands, and he'd hate to see her go.

"Thank you Ms. Alexeev." He went back to his papers for quick signatures. At the click of her heels to leave he made a sly glance up, the view of her ample bottom walking away didn't help his throbbing erection. Something he'd have to deal with in five minutes.

7/26/99 10:00AM

Claire stirred in her small cell the next morning. Her arms hurt from where Alex had prodded her with needles. She didn't realize she was so behind on shots, the Tdap was a bitch and a half. She moaned as rolled in her cot. She began to wonder who this Alex woman was. She didn't want to pry too much yesterday, lest she push the wrong buttons. Was her name a possible alias?

Claire knew she was over thinking it. She decided to look around her cell. It was like a psychiatric ward cell, blank. Bare walls, linoleum floor, a small stainless-steel cot, and blaring luminescent lights. If she didn't know any better she'd say it was almost time for therapy hour. I hope someone leaves me the broken crayons, she sarcastically thought.

Claire then tried to focus on the sounds around her, nothing but buzzing. The light's hums were all she could hear, she wished she could turn them off, but they were automated with the time. She was sure that she'd get pulled out again for more testing. Still Claire jumped out of bed and placed her ear next to the door. She strained to hear anything, dead air. "Fucking great." She muttered to no one.

All this silence made her nervous. It made her think, and thinking always reminded her of the Raccoon incident. All the hordes of people, their flesh peeling off and their blood oozing. Not to mention all the yellow puss that seemed to seep- she shook her head. Trying to think of different things.

She then looked to the tiny window on her door, obviously used to observe her, but she wondered if she could pull over the bed to peek through. The bed grinded on the floor as she pushed it into place. She had to stand on her tip toes to peer through the window. It was a dark corridor, and some ambient light off to the side. She could make out a bulletin board to the right. She couldn't make out what was on there per se, but she could see some community events, a missing cat, and some work schedules. A lot of good that'd do for her. With nothing more to do she pushed the bed back into place. She'd just have to bide her time; they're going to use her for something.

Roger woke in a cold sweat. He felt like the atoms in his body had split more times than he could count. His bowels felt loose and his whole body quivered in the cold. He didn't want to open his eyes or move. He felt the paper tissue of the examining table stick to him. His tongue was a thick and sticky with spit.

"How are we feeling?" he could hear Doctor Byron saunter over to him. "Open your eyes," He commanded. Roger did as was commanded and was welcomed with blaring bright lights. He lurched forward covering his eyes. He started to see spots and he felt like his eyes were being torn apart on the inside and being reassembled.

"Oh Go-D" He gurgled, Roger suddenly was aware of everything. The sweat rolling down his skin, the sinews being stretched, torn, and set into place, the feeling of air rushing around him. He could hear everything: The doctor's breathing, the people working, chatting, and moving; the clattering of soldier's feet not far off. He wanted to scream, it was too much.

He apparently was grunting or squealing in pain because the nurse was beside him cooing some bullshit. He didn't want to hear it, and was glad when Doctor Byron swatted her away. "Look at me." He smacked Roger's hands away and snatched his chin, forcing Roger to look at him. He seemed pleased by the results. Doctor Byron flashed a light in his eyes. It was burning his retinas, his temples throbbed. "Good," He crowed, "Get up." He roughly tore Roger off the examining table. He then stabilized Roger until he could stand on his own.

Stepping away to appear in front of Roger, "Now," He grabbed his clip board, "How are we feeling?"

Roger shuffled in place, things still popped and prickled. "I'm not sure-"He stared at the doctor until he became one person again. He wasn't sure, but he felt like if he focused enough he could see the cracks in his skin. He almost backed away in revulsion. The Doctor just was standing there patient and silent. "Everything seems more detailed?" He could hear a moth flutter outside the door.

Doctor Byron nodded, he pushed him back onto the examination table. The nurse quickly tied off his arm. She administered the yellow shot in the same vein where the black shot was administered. The double vision finally stopped and everything seemed to come together. There were some odd adjustments, some audible pops. Roger could now pick and choose what he wanted to listen to. He focused on a board room conversation on the fourteenth floor one moment, then around his vicinity. He could hear Abena yawn in the lobby and the loud clicks of her keyboard. There was also the fact that he felt normal again. He was sure that he gained a few inches though, he curiously looked at his legs. Which did seem longer.

"Better?" The Doctor asked, he eyed him up from behind his clip board.

"Yes," Roger started to feel things around him, they felt odd. He could feel the little details of the tissue and the smooth, yet barely noticeable dents in the linoleum.

"Good, then you're ready for training." He pointed towards the "Training door" and the nurse handed him some grey fatigues. Without thinking he slipped them on. The nurse led Roger to the door.

"Good luck, Mr. Hue." The Doctor waved a dismissive hand as he looked through his drawers. Roger certainly wouldn't miss him. He pushed open the door to a concrete room. The concrete looked weathered and stained with water damage and old dried blood. He sheepishly walked into the area, it smelt like stale water.

"Welcome." A loud booming voice rang out. A very official looking, older man walked into view. He was hard looking with a large muscular frame. His hazel eyes seemed harden with age and that seemed to go well with his scarred pink skin. His features were square and block like, but Roger honestly didn't expect anything less from a military meat head like him. "I'm sure you're wondering why you're here, and why something like this would be in a pharmaceutical company." The older man waved to his surroundings with a general's flourish. "Well," A loud lock sound rang out behind Roger, "You're going to find out."

Roger supposed the man read the confusion on his face because he launched into his monologue immediately, "We here at HCA, much like Umbrella, specialize in BOWs. Biological Weapons to the common man," The man walked to Roger, "And we need special tasks forces to-" He thought about it for a bit, "keep people out our hair, stay on top, and retrieve important pieces of data." He looped his arm around Roger in a fatherly manner. "And you've been chosen to be a part of this special task force whether you like it or not." The man smiled, he was actually the same height as Roger, but still somehow much more intimidating up close. He had a genuine kind smile, but behind weathered lips it wasn't comforting.

"What?"

"You're going through special training to become one of soldiers. You'll be ranked and placed in the best team for you. There's a lot of good ones with certain tasks that you'll be able to do." Hunk eyes roamed up Roger's body, "And the soldier's serum seemed to work on you well. Your recruitment officer suggested sector C, but through training I can get you to B." He patted his shoulder, "If you're lucky."

In a state of disbelief Roger laughed, he couldn't even lift a pound. Much less be a mercenary for an evil corporation. "Very funny," Roger softly pushed away from the man, "No one had to put me through this huge ruse for this. There's no such thing as evil mercenaries for corporations."

"Yes. There is." The man didn't look too pleased, he removed a handgun from his belt. Roger froze at the sight of it. "And you'll either go ahead to that door." He motioned to the steal door just past them both, "Or you'll meet the fate of the others who refused."

"I don't think you understand the gravity of your situation…Not that any of them do." He walked them forward, "But I'm a patient man. Let me introduce myself. They call me HUNK."

Chris tapped the table, Jill and Leon sat across from him in the diner, waiting patiently. Jill watched Chris pace their hotel room in the dead of night. He couldn't get any peace of mind until he found his sister. She could only imagine how Claire was when she was searching for him. Jill reached out her hand and took his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. This took Chris out of his stupor.

He had been watching the pouring rain for what seemed like eternity. "Sorry, I guessed I spaced out." He ran a hand through his hair and the leaned into the table.

"It's alright Chris." Jill said, "We've gone through her apartment and have Rebecca combing through possible locations Wesker might have gone to. Where ever he goes, I'm sure there's a link to her. We just have to be quick about it-and we will be." She knew there was no time to lose for both Claire's sake and Chris's. Their steaming food finally reached the table.

No one really touched it. "Do you guys need anything else?" The homely waitress asked.

A chorus of no thanks or not at the moment was murmured from the table. The night was dour and so was everyone's mood. She prayed that everything would lighten up as soon as Barry joined them. He was coming in from Canada and he always seemed to cheer everyone up. He was about five minutes late, but traffic was bad.

Jill prodded her green beans and Leon had dug into his burger. Chris, did nothing. "Come on bud. You should eat." Leon swallowed his food. Chris sighed and picked up his burger; he gave a half-hearted bite and masticated for what seemed like forever.

"Would it make you feel better if we check intel again?" Jill nudged Chris's foot, smiled. "We got informants everywhere Chris. We'll find her." Jill had met Claire a while back. Just before she started college and from she saw, she liked. She was definitely her brother's sister and was apparently learned how to defend herself. It was curious that she was evening snatched in the first place. Jill inattentively looked out the window while chewing her food. The rain had gotten worse and she could barely see past the few feet of light from the diner.

"I wonder what that note met." Leon piped up, "That whole Chemical wedding nonsense." He wiped his hands and sipped his drink.

"Chymical. It was the old alchemy variant of the word." Jill remembered that Rebecca explained it to her in length. "Apparently, there was a story called Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz. And it was a huge inspiration to Alchemists and Poets. What that has to do with Wesker I have no clue." She stabbed her steak, "It's an allegory about 'Sacred Marriage'. Something about seven days or journeys. It's weirdly compared to Genesis."

Chris looked and sounded unsure about this information, "Are you sure?"

"That's all that Rebecca has found so far." And she would have to applaud her for it. For this small operation they have, she's been pulling a lot of weight. "There's themes of initiation rituals, tests, purifications, death, resurrection, and ascension. Or hell, maybe that poem has nothing to do with anything."

"Then again riddles have been ingrained with Umbrella for years." Leon chimed in, "I'm not surprised that Wesker hasn't gone insane with them. Can you imagine if anyone lost the bathroom key in those mansions?"

"Actually," Jill thought about it, "I only saw two bathrooms in the Arklay mansion…" This seemed to affirm Leon's opinion.

"My point stands." He joked.

Chris took his first real bite. "Have you noticed that Wesker is weirdly religious?" Chris asked between bites.

Jill wouldn't say that, but those whole MMO codes with biblical quotes from Genesis were creepy as hell and they probably weren't a coincidence either. The codes, the Genesis virus, and so on. She wouldn't call Wesker religious though. He seemed way into himself for that. "I don't know about religious…" She trailed off. She didn't know if he was so into himself that he would try to make himself God… But, she can't imagine him with something like a Rosary or on his knees praying. He could've been using the whole Genesis thing as a metaphor she thought. Regardless, she wished she had her Rosary, but it's sadly gone with Racoon City. "I think he's way into himself to believe in God."

"A narcissist?" Leon asked, "I heard he was more aloof than anything else. Did he ever take off his shades?"

"Yeah, but not frequently," Chris pondered on it, "And especially not on the night of the Mansion Incident… And I don't think that man has ever done anything that wasn't for himself." Chris took another large bite. The table fell silent for a while. Everyone focused on their meals and the trucker chatter around them.

"Hey guys." A familiar burly voice chirruped, the big visage of Barry Burton walked into view. He was soaked head to toe and was losing weight fast; The diet in Canada had been good to him. "It's raining like a bitch out there." He took off his wet rain slicker and took a seat next to Chris. "Why so glum everyone?" The waitress walked over at the sight of the new arrival, "Oh miss, just black coffee please." She nodded and walked off.

"It's nice to see you Barry." Jill broke the silence, "We're just tired is all."

"I completely understand. What happened here is way fucked up and don't worry Chris," He clapped Chris on the shoulder and roughly squeezed him, "We'll find her."

"Thanks." Chris smiled, and roughly pushed him off, "-for getting me wet." He laughed.

"No problem," Barry flicked some water at him. Chris began flicking water back from his water glass.

"I'm Leon." He interjected, obviously he felt left out. He stretched his hand and with a look of approval Barry shook back enthusiastically.

"So, you're the new guy, huh?" Barry asked.

"Yep, survived Racoon with Claire. And I'm planning on both of us surviving this too."

"It's good to see we have an invested team here, so any details on her yet?"

"Not really, we just have the last time we saw Claire was a couple nights ago in New York. None of her neighbors saw or heard anything. And the only suspicious character was this guy named Norman Hue and he's gone. Just both, poof-out of thin air." Chris swiped his glass, "It's fucking insane," He mumbled into his glass, "And so we're following Wesker's trail."

"Who's this Norman Hue?"

"Some odd ball that was watching Claire from his windows. I didn't seem him, but Leon and Chris did."

"He was just a lonely nerd to be honest. I don't think he has anything to do with this." He retorted.

"I think he's involved with Umbrella some way." Chris grimaced at the mention of his name, "Or at least someone needs to lock him up somewhere." Chris wasn't too fond of someone spying on his sister. And Jill got his full opinion on that situation last night.

"Well Wesker will obviously have her somewhere." Barry nodded, "I suppose if we get permission we can consider his American bank accounts. He's listed dead here, but we can at least see his history and maybe look into where he was before."

"I don't think his past years bank statements will help. He'll obviously have some over sea accounts." Jill said.

"Never hurts to see." Barry retorted. "If we look back far enough maybe we'll see some suspicious activities. He had vacation days. He could've gone to his favorite vacation spot. Maybe he took her there."

"I doubt Wesker would take my sister to someplace like the Bahamas."

"You never know."

"I'm not even sure how we'll do that, but we can try." She finally agreed.

The waitress returned with Barry's coffee. He mumbled a thank you and she went on her way. "Did you guys get a hotel room nearby?" He sipped the acrid liquid.

"Yeah, motel seven." She was sharing a room with Chris. And Leon had gotten his own room. Not a lot of people know about her relationship with Chris yet. And she's not sure how Barry would react to it. She would hope favorably. He likes her enough as her colleague and friend, but as his best friend's new item. She wasn't sure. Jill shook the thought from her head, now is not the time. At least with his friend here Chris would probably settle down to sleep tonight.

Wesker had grabbed his specimen around noon and was now prepping her for her first session. He removed his lab coat and set it on the chair behind him. He chose a closed off room, so she couldn't look out the window and get a barring of her surroundings. Though he would love some exterior lighting at the moment, because the interior lighting in the room was atrocious. Nothing he could do, he mentally kicked himself. All the other rooms either were checked out or had large bay windows looking out to the beautiful Russian landscape.

"How are we feeling today Ms. Redfield?" He prodded her with his pen. She was strapped down to an operation chair. She was reclined back in an almost relaxed manner. If she wasn't cuffed he'd say her body would look absolutely at ease. Unsurprisingly, she looked extremely peeved. Her red hair was rustled, purple bags formed crescents under her eyes, and she wouldn't look at him directly.

He grabbed her soft chin, relishing the feel. "Ms. Redfield." He said sternly, "Are you ready to get started?" No response. Well fine, he thought.

Albert walked briskly to the counter where her charts were spread out. Alex's chicken scratch writing while pretty to look at was a bitch to decipher. "It says here that you got some shots, a lot of tests for vitals…" He muttered flipping through the standard check-up procedures. "Oh, and your blood work was certainly interesting Ms. Redfield." He glanced back at her.

She was looking around every time he turned away. Of course, looking for a way out. Albert walked towards the door, slamming it shut. "There will be no escape Claire." He walked back to the papers, leaning into the counter. "You know I really admire your tenacity," He looked through more results. She had a surprising number of antibodies. "You survive all these terrors and still look for a way out of this fox hole you stumbled into. It's utterly optimistic, but you're with the big boys now," He flipped the page to her medicinal history, Ambien for sleep. "Not some flippant sycophant or some power-hungry dipshit. I won't let you out of my grasp so easily, my dear."

He thought about the procedures he could do next, "You know you can make this easier if you talk." He glanced up from the papers to Claire, glaring at him. "You shouldn't glare, it's unattractive." He turned from her and opened a cabinet above him. He heard a soft scoff in response, exactly what he wanted. He almost smiled, but anything less than stoic would take away the fun. He grabbed some iodine, ethanol, a few clean towels. He then set them onto the overbed table. Rooting through some drawers he finally found what he wanted, a case of his medicinal instruments. Some scalpels, scrapers, medical scissors, and so on. Albert grabbed the tools he would need, setting them on the overbed table. He had foresight to uncap the iodine bottle. After he slid off his sunglasses and set them on the counter, he'd need to properly see for this.

Claire didn't betray anything, no small gasps. She didn't even seem frightened by his red eyes. She was a determined creature, like a spry kitten. It amused him to no end and he looked forward to feeling her claws. Albert walked over to the fridge and grabbed some vials as well as some syringes. He kicked over the stool towards her side. "Are you ready?" He set the items in his hands onto the table, then settled down. He waited for a response, but after a few minutes it seemed futile. With nothing more to do he loosened her right cuff, turned over her arm, and held it down with his left hand. "I saw the results of your Cardiac Stress tests, they were phenomenal. My sister said so herself." He took a cotton swab and doused it in iodine. This little piece of information seemed to surprise Claire; he felt a little jump in her arm as he applied the cold liquid. "She enjoys running herself, and I'm sure you have a lot in common." He muttered to himself. "What do you think of her?" He looked up to her face, nothing.

"Well," He sighed, setting the swab on the table he grabbed the razor-sharp scalpel, "I suppose I should tell you what I'm planning on doing to you." He set the razor's edge on the supple skin of her fore-arm, her pupils dilated and he felt the tiniest movement before she froze. He liked the blue veins under her skin, he began to trace the largest one with the scalpel. "I plan to do a biopsy on you, you have interesting tissues. Especially the ones pertaining to your spine." He nonchalantly scratched at some side veins like they were branches of a tree and he was simply sketching it out with a pencil. He locked eyes with her, seeing immediate fear. This he liked.

He dug the scalpel deeper hearing a pained groan from her, good. She was quaking under his touch and the rivets of sweat ran down her pale skin. He set the scalpel down to glance at his work. There was blood everywhere and it stained her perfectly good white clothing. He shook his head, he grasped her hand and rubbed her bloody arm with the other hand, gently. "Don't worry Claire dear, you'll learn to like it here." It was a shame, this was going to cause scarring, but most couldn't tell anyway. They were deep enough cuts to hurt, but only a few needed stiches. Albert grabbed the white towel, then he applied pressure to the veins, after six minutes it stopped oozing.

He began to clean the wound properly, "Keep your arm there." He grabbed the curved needle and thread, he slowly threaded it through her skin. Claire swallowed the spit in her dry throat. "Do you need water dear?" He asked, slowing making his lines as perfect as possible. After the last stitch, he expertly tied it off, "I suppose I can have someone arrange for your lunch a bit early. After all we're almost done here." Albert carefully wrapped her arm; he softly pecked kisses up to the crook of her arm, lingering on her skin.

"Now we'll start the biopsy soon. And I promised if you talk, I'll be much nicer." He grabbed a tie and fastened it around her un-harmed arm, "Right now I'm giving you some immune boosters." He took a syringe, "I want you to be alive for as long as possible." He removed the liquid from the vial. "This won't hurt a bit love." He cooed, pricking her skin.

"See?" He smiled, looking in Claire's fear filled eyes. He tossed the tie aside, pondering what thing he should do next. He already tested her boundaries, but he wasn't in the mood for anymore. He had enough fodder for himself for weeks. He supposed he'd actually have to get some real science done- there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it!?" He barked.

"Albert," Alex said through the door, she opened it with no hesitation, "Sorry to intrude, but there's some investors running amok upstairs. They said they'd only to speak to you." She rolled her eyes and awkwardly shrugged. "I tried to deal with them, but you know me brother. I have no patience for half-wits."

"Funny, you're actually better with dealing with them." He stood, letting the stool roll out from underneath him.

"What happened to her?" Alex inquired, she craned her neck towards Claire, a vague expression of concern.

"There was an accident with some shots. Blood everywhere." Albert shook his head, "The last time I let one of the newer personnel touch my subjects." He blew out air.

"Odd." She remarked, she looked deep in thought for a second and then perked up, "Hey, how about I finish up here and you deal with the men upstairs." She took the stool, rolling over to Claire with the patient's sheet in hand.

Albert thought about it, "What are the investors bitching about Alex?" He ran a hand through his hair.

"The Ferguson accounts."

The account name was enough to sour his mood. No one could do anything right. He now had to run upstairs and deal with ornery old men, not his idea of a good day. Who ever fucked up will suffer greatly. He wondered were he set the vise...

"Albert, what were you planning to do?"

"The immune boosting shot was just given, so I believe I was going to draw more blood, spinal fluid, and possibly do a biopsy." He couldn't very well do a vaginal exam, not yet.

"Well, it seems your assistants have drawn enough blood," She remarked, raising the brow at the blood still dripping onto the floor. "I'll make sure everything else gets done."

Albert didn't like the coy look on her face, but didn't have enough time to pry into his sister's head. "Now if you excuse me" He slid on his lab coat, practically running out of the room.

Well, this chapter isn't as long as I liked, but I wanted it out by Halloween. I wrote an Alex section, but I didn't like it, so I took it out and I'm saving it for the next chapter. I promise that I'll try to make updates more frequent. I just have a lot to deal with with midterms at the moment, so it won't be probably until around late November-December. See ya' in the next installation!