Pre-Chapter A/N: Nothing too important to say now, apart from the mandatory "Sorry for not updating for 2+ years, please don't throw me to the mechanical, fire-breathing lions!" and the "Hope you enjoy!". There IS, however, a rather large A/N at the end of this chapter. I'd appreciate it if you guys could read through it. Until then, here goes chapter 10!

CHAPTER 10
Days of Peace, Pt. 1

"So you're carrying a firearm now, Mercer… How unlike you."

Alex Mercer knew the speaker would find him sometime. Their interaction at the sight of the massacre warranted as much. Honestly, the viral monster thought he'd finally be rid of this annoying presence when the reports came back from Africa, but then again… News like that is always too good to be true. He turned around, tearing his gaze away from the view of the city the top floor of the skyscraper offered, and glared at his 'visitor' as the wind toyed around with his jacket. The man's attire hadn't changed much since they last met. The dark shades were still present, situated right above a smirk that was downright infuriating to anyone who knew what it meant. The dark, diamond-patterned longcoat also remained – of course it would. That idiot was always fond of showing off and holding himself back.

"Lots of changes occurred, Wesker," he said coldly as he glared at the megalomaniacal man. "I carry a gun; you go around sharing your little 'gift' with any wounded person you come across."

The chuckle that followed his statement only served to annoy him. "That boy is hardly 'any wounded person', Mercer," Wesker spoke, his smirk never leaving his face. "He's courting the so-called 'queen' of the Diclonii, isn't he?" The man said smugly. "And now, he owes me a life – his life – and that's a debt I intend to collect on the future."

Alex fixed a glare at the blonde-haired man. "What do you intend to do, Wesker?" The question was laced with murderous intent, a promise of violence should the answer not be appeasing. Wesker, to his credit, was unfazed – if anything, his smirk merely broadened at the prospect of fighting another organism as powerful as him.

"Oh, nothing that will interfere with your little project, Mercer," the superhuman shrugged nonchalantly. "If anything, my plan should remove a thorn from your side as well." The man's smirk still did not waver. "Just because dear little queen is suddenly subdued and peaceful doesn't mean you should think the rest have settled down. If anything… They've become even more violent – and as you know, violent mutants draw… unsavoury attention."

"Get to the point, Wesker," Alex said calmly. For all his smarts and savvy, Wesker never could drop that little habit of his.

"B.S.A.A," Wesker said simply. "The Diclonius attacks have drawn their attention, and they've issued a shoot-to-kill order regarding all encounters. Your old friend Kakuzawa has… 'exploited' this little order – he's contacted them and informed them that the 'queen' is residing here in Kamakura."

Alex felt his right eye twitch slightly. "B.S.A.A… Shit."

"Indeed," Wesker smirked. "And your little piece of Blackwatch can't do anything to dissuade them. After that little 'mishap' of yours in New York, they've had quite a strong dislike of you and that other violent ape you turned. If the information my… 'associate' has gathered is any indication, they have troops heading here as we speak."

"…Why are you telling me this?" Alex asked coldly. He knew Albert Wesker – the man never did anything like this if he couldn't stand to gain from it. "This isn't like you."

"Why, I stand to gain quite a bit from it, of course," Wesker shrugged, still smirking. "Chris Redfield might be amongst the troops. If I'm lucky, he'll see the boy has… my eyes and start shooting at him. That should sit well with the queen," he said smugly, sarcasm lacing his words.

"That's all?" Alex asked dubiously. "You're telling me this because you might get a chance to see Chris Redfield die?" He snorted. "I know you hate the man, Wesker, but your plans are never that simple."

"That they aren't…" Wesker chuckled again. "But then again, telling you everything might just spoil the fun."

Alex stood still for a few moments, studying the man before him critically. "It's got something to do with Kaede…" He said darkly, more a statement than a question, and the reaction – the dark-clad man's smirk finally splitting into an outright grin – offered even more proof.

"Maybe," Wesker shrugged. "I don't see why you're so interested in that anyway – even if she were some key part of my plan, it's not as though you could stop me, Mercer…"

The moment the taunt left his mouth, the concrete floor beneath him erupted as a multitude of sharp, black spikes pierced upwards, a surprise bid to skewer him where he stood. Dust and debris flew up into the air as several black and red tendrils snaked around Alex's leg. The viral monster frowned under his hood as he glared at the dust cloud where Wesker stood formally – a glare that intensified even more when he heard the dark laughter coming from between the debris. "Still as instinctive as ever, aren't you, Mercer?" He heard Wesker's voice from the dust, and slowly, the grey cloud cleared to reveal the man standing on the tip of one of the outward spikes, casually keeping his balance, his arms folded in mock boredom. "Honestly, I would've thought you've unlearned this behaviour after your little near-death experience."

"What makes you think it's that?" Alex droned. "Instinct drives survival, Wesker. If there's a threat near, we either fight or run away…" He paused. "It can't be instinct – because you're no threat."

Wesker merely chuckled again. "…You must really want to die today, Mercer." The second he finished speaking, he hopped off the spike he was standing on, dropping to the floor. His form blurred the moment his soles hit the concrete, and he dashed forwards with a speed even Alex struggled to follow. A flash of red flickered behind the dark shades, and Wesker made his attack: left foot forward, right hand reared back for a palm strike that, Alex figured, would no doubt blast him clean off the building… if it hit him.

The palm shot forward, a visible vacuum forming around the wrist from the sheer speed of the attack, and Alex could almost swear he saw slipstreams trailing from the attacker's fingers. Wesker's smirk had turned outright maniacal at this stage – at least, it did until he realized that instead of punching a hole clean through Mercer's stomach, he'd struck nothing but a small cloud of slowly dissipating red mist.

To any normal human, it would've seemed as though Alex Mercer had just… disappeared. Wesker, however, was no normal human – his near-godlike reflexes let him see the trails of mist travelling around his form with such clarity, it could just as well have been black fog in a pure white room. Another sinister chuckle escaped him, and he turned around to face Mercer. His suspicions had been proved correct – 'Zeus' stood there, twenty feet behind him, glaring daggers. Again, Wesker's reflexes kicked in, and he could see the red mist slowly trailing towards the hooded man, reforming his body at a pace most normal fools would consider frighteningly fast. "Huh… You've learned a few new tricks, Mercer…" He praised.

Alex frowned. "You've gotten faster," he said pointedly. "Much faster. Stronger too." The viral monster's eyes turned a deep, shining red as tendrils started shifting and writhing up and down his arms. "I get the feeling you're not willing to settle for a draw this time." He held out his arms, gritting his teeth slightly as bones snapped and muscle tore. Slowly, the tendrils started withdrawing, leaving his now mutated arms visible. Each one seemed to be covered by the same chitinous plates that formed his 'armour', and a thumb and three fingers tipped off each hand. What resembled a macabre, bony piston jutted from each elbow, and the muscles bulged slightly, a red glow drifting down the limbs, illuminating muscle lines and bone briefly. "That's good," he mused as he clenched his fists. "Because this time, I won't settle for one either."

Wesker's smirk once again split into a grin as he assumed a martial arts stance. Gray, veined tendrils snaked out from under his longcoat, arcing across the roof of the building. "You remember this, don't you, Mercer?" He grinned. "Uroboros. It turns out it was a success after all." He paused. "Well… Seeing as I'm 'not a threat'," he said venomously, "I'd guess that means the first strike is mine!" With those words, he dashed forwards again.

"Heh. You can have ten strikes," Mercer taunted as he readied himself. "It still won't make a difference."

Wesker's palm shot forwards once more, the gray tendrils snaking around his arm as yet another vacuum formed around the limb, and at the same time, the piston in one of Mercer's arms drew back, spinning at such a speed it was working up steam. Alex retaliated as he saw the palm tearing towards him, and launched a crushing attack of his own.

Open palm and clenched fist met dead-on, and in the area around the two, quite a few people flinched as what sounded like a loud thunderclap echoed across the midday sky.

Elsewhere, on the island-like platform inhabited by what many referred to as "Mercer's Blackwatch", Specialist-Captain Robert Cross flinched as he was busy tying the laces of his combat boots. He frowned slightly. After Alex… 'saved' him from the Supreme Hunter, he'd been a little more in-tune with the larger viral manifestations than he was comfortable with. One of those viral manifestations was Mercer himself – that meant, whenever 'Zeus' decided to go to town and kill himself some dumbasses, Cross received the equivalent of a blearing siren and an annoyingly loud 'Danger!' warning from his little link with the man. That normally hit him with all the pain and agony one would feel when, say, pistol-whipped or dropped from a massive height.

The injuries he'd sustained fighting that eloquent trench-coated fucker weren't making it any easier, either. Honestly, it seemed as though whatever deity governed the world really hated him nowadays – he could hardly ever catch a break. First, he decides to make do with a stun-rod and a grenade launcher. Lo and behold, he gets his ass handed to him both by Mercer and by the Supreme Hunter. Then he decided he wasn't going to settle for being caught without a fighting chance again, so he grabbed himself a knife, some flash grenades and two modded Berettas as well. Lo and behold – again – he gets his ass kicked – again – by a man who may or may not be a viral incarnation and a threat to all humanity – again.

Finally done redressing himself, the Captain sighed and stood up. Honestly, there were some days where he thought he might've been better off still trapped in the Supreme Hunter's stomach.

Dana Mercer jerked slightly as she walked, that ever-nagging ping in the back of her head alerting her that her brother was busy ruining some poor soul's day. She looked to the side, seemingly staring at the steel wall a few inches from her, before letting out a dejected sigh and moving on, clutching a folder of documents to her chest.

There was quite a panic going on, at the moment. The little Diclonius, Nana, had gone to check up on 'Kaede', as she had revealed, only to find an empty bed. Normally, this would have spooked Dana as well – after all, with Alex away and Cross in a sour mood, she was left with the reins. However, when something has happened at least a handful of times in the past two weeks, and the person causing the panic made it clear they had no intention of stopping any time soon, it became less of a panic and more of an annoyance.

Still, Dana couldn't fault Kaede for her actions. If anything, it was quite a heartwarming gesture. Ever since the 'queen' was capable of hobbling around without support, it had become a herculean chore to keep the woman in her bed. Dana palmed her face as she walked to her destination. None of the people she'd assigned to watch over Kaede had actually succeeded in their jobs. At first she thought putting Beast on watch outside her door would at least ensure Kaede got enough rest to heal up. Fool me twice, shame on me, she sighed inwardly. Of course, she'd forgotten the one thing about Jonathan 'Beast' Steele that mattered most:

The man simply didn't give a fuck. Especially not after his little spat with Jo.

Dana's eye twitched as the image of the young, silver-haired Genocide Angel flitted through her head. That one took the whole job one step further than Beast did: instead of actually keeping Kaede restrained and ensuring she got rest – which, by all forms of logic, the young queen needed after getting tenderized by the Hunter – Jo instead opted to help Kaede go where she wanted to, I.V drips, limps and all. Meg did exactly the same thing – and the two of them were almost stupidly unrepentant of their actions. Jo always feigned disinterest and boredom whenever Dana stressed the fact that Kaede had been put through the metaphorical meat grinder (though the fact that her throat was still slashed probably contributed to her silence), and Meg just kept smiling brightly while lying that she 'understood' and that it 'won't happen again next time'…

…and it always happened again the next time. Always.

Finally, Dana reached her destination: Ward Zero, in the West Wing. Her face soured a bit as she remembered what caused the room to become occupied in the first place. Honestly, after spending time with Alex and his merry band of misfits, someone 'coming back to life' didn't faze her that much anymore. But this… According to the retrieval team…

She sighed as her hand rested on the doorknob. The young man, Kouta… He was ambushed after saving his cousin Yuka. A dozen men armed with AK-47's, the team said. And each AK was empty – not a single round in the mag or the chamber. It was a massacre, apparently… Kouta had been found in a pool of blood larger than the craters Alex left when he landed. Dead for about an hour, it was determined. Pale, cold, lifeless, rigid – the boy was, by all definitions, dead.

Then he screamed.

And then he came back to life.

That had been two weeks ago. Kouta had regained brief consciousness once when he arrived – and Dana had been present then. She made a startling discovery, when the boy started whispering his lover's name. His eyes had changed – they had become… sinister, in appearance. The pupil had become slitted, much like a snake's, and his irises had turned a bright, bright emerald, with a few streaks of blue splattered here and there. At first, she didn't know what the hell happened. The eyes looked familiar, true, but with the panic his resurrection had caused, nobody could think any further than that.

It wasn't until Alex mentioned the name 'Wesker' that Dana started to piece things together. She grimaced slightly, her hand still firmly resting on the doorknob, her gaze downcast. His eyes looked a lot like the maniac's did – true, the irises were a different color and the pupils had become narrower, but it still resembled the eyes she took notice of the one time in her life that she had met Albert Wesker. She shuddered slightly – Wesker had interacted with her for a total of two minutes and she was already absolutely terrified of the man. To think that he could interfere in Kouta and Kaede's lives…

Dana sighed dejectedly. Those two had been through so much already… and now, even more shit was rocketing towards the fan with Wesker's appearance. I hope Alex knows what he's doing… She thought to herself bitterly. Wesker… His plans always succeed – even when they fail. She paused. If… If this goes on… I might even need to call him.

Sighing to herself, she slid the sandblasted door open and stepped inside. What she saw came as no surprise – after all, she'd seen it about a dozen times beforehand in the past two weeks. Ward Zero was Kouta's ward, after all. Thus, seeing the young woman sitting beside his bed, slumped forward and fast asleep, had become something of a normalcy around the fortress inhabited by 'Mercer's Blackwatch'. You know something had become commonplace when the young queen's doctors, without a hint of exasperation or outrage, went right to Ward Zero whenever her room turned up empty.

Still, Dana couldn't really bring herself to launch into a 'woman-in-charge' tirade of authority. She tried once – God alone knows, she tried – but seeing Kaede sitting faithfully by Kouta's side, her hand clutching his own even as she slept, was just a bit too heartwarming for her to disrupt.

So, with a shrug to herself, she set about checking on the readings from the few remaining machines Kouta was connected to. Everything seemed normal – it had been exactly eleven days since his last seizure, and the scale of that one was drastically small compared to the one he had after he came back. Heart rate and brain activity seemed okay, breathing was regular, and –

"…Dana?"

Dana smiled as she turned around, seeing Kaede sit up stiffly, her eyes still narrow and glassed over from her nap. The young queen had healed amazingly – even Alex was baffled. Sure, she'd have her scars – even Cross still had his; you didn't just walk away from the Supreme Hunter without a few of them – but the bruising and smaller nicks and cuts from glass and other things were near non-existent now. The only visible remainder from her fight was the long, almost jagged scar on her neck, from where her artery was slashed.

"Wow," Dana said with mock surprise. "This is the first time you've actually woken up by yourself. Creds for that… Although the chances of you going back to your bed are…?" She trailed off.

Kaede only smiled slightly as she turned her gaze to Kouta. "None. Not right now."

"I figured as much," Dana said with an exasperated sigh as she drew one of the chairs closer and sat down. "Well, seeing as he's unconscious I'm guessing we've got privacy settled. And even if he can hear… He should."

"Hear what?" Kaede asked, finally turning a confused stare at the woman. "What's going on?"

"You're in danger. Both of you," Dana said. Kaede, however, responded with nothing but a blank stare before reaching up and running a hand over the scar on her neck. Dana sighed. "I mean, you're in more danger than you were before. It's not just GenTek and the Supreme Hunter anymore." That made the queen sit up and take notice. Dana exhaled softly and handed the folder she'd brought with her to the young woman.

Kaede wasted no time in flipping it open, eyes scanning over the few pictures and highlighted words there were. The subject of the folder seemed to be a blonde, middle-aged man who had a taste for dark clothing. She was about to start reading the detailed info – but a small picture caught her eye, one that made her breath catch in her throat.

A red, almost crimson eye, splattered with gold streaks, surrounding a dark, cat-like iris. Recognition dawned on her face immediately. She had seen Kouta's eyes after he came back to life. True, the color differed, but the resemblance was uncanny nonetheless. Slowly, she turned her gaze to Dana, her eyes asking the questions she couldn't vocalize.

"That man," Dana said rather sourly, "is Albert Wesker. I'm going to cut right past all the boring details and summaries, Kaede: Wesker's presence in Kamakura means that some bad shit is going to go down. He's got his sights on Kouta – and that means he's got his sights on you too. GenTek, the Supreme Hunter, they're all little league compared to Wesker."

"What… what makes him so dangerous?" Kaede asked, her eyes still focused on the snapshot of the red, cat-like eye.

"Put simply? He's the absolute epitome of 'superhuman'," Dana answered, folding her arms and reclining in her chair. "His strength and speed are…" She sighed. "Blackwatch only ever got small pieces of footage regarding Wesker – and even from those few seconds we deduced he's beyond practically anything we could throw at him. Even Alex couldn't overtake him – they've fought about three times, and none of those fights yielded a victor." She stood up and walked over to the window. "He's absurdly fast, brutally strong and – worst of all – terrifyingly smart." She paused, before turning around and facing Kaede. "And now, he's got his sights set on you two."

"Why?" Kaede asked, looking up from the folder. Her face portrayed a mix of confusion, caution and wariness. "What could he want with us?"

Dana tensed. The one question she was hoping the queen wouldn't ask had just flown right into her face. She pondered for a moment, trying to think of an elaborate excuse to give the young queen, but in the end, she figured she might as well get the truth out early. After all, hiding things from her had almost driven her right into the Supreme Hunter's hands. Sighing once more, she looked Kaede dead in the eye.

"We don't know what he wants with you two, Kaede," she said solemnly, "and that is scaring us more than anything GenTek can throw at us."

"God dammit!"

A cry of rage signalled the half-full glass flying across the dark room before shattering against a wall, coating it with whiskey. "This is unacceptable!" Director Kakuzawa yelled as he paced furiously behind his desk, veins on his forehead bulging as he breathed raggedly. "You kept me waiting for two weeks just to tell me you failed?! What were you –"

"We had more pressing concerns than your little pet, Kakuzawa," a distorted voice cut him off over the speakerphone. "Albert Wesker's return poses a greater threat to us than a docile Diclonius queen. Ensuring his affiliates are unaware, and ensuring they remain so, took precedence over a botched assassination of a young boy."

"You're supposed to be the remnants of the goddamn Illuminati!" Kakuzawa bellowed. "You're the fucking Templars, for fuck's sake! You're supposed to be everywhere, in every government, in every military, in every -"

"We were, Kakuzawa," the distorted voice replied icily. "Back then, we were. You know our influence faded over time, you know Blackwatch was one of our last anchors, and you know we have been on hard times since they broke away from us. The situation is dire, Director. Specialist-General Creed stonewalls all our attempts to get a plant in the military and he's been using recorded documents of our interactions with GenTek in the past to trace our affiliates and sway them from us. Alex Mercer sabotages you – and by extension, us – at every corner and has actually been making progress in his little peace rally towards the Diclonii. James Heller has been rallying allies of his own, using his little 'gift' from Mercer to track down our members and slaughter them. And now, with Albert Fucking Wesker back in action, we're looking at another external influence on our little chess game, waiting for just the right moment to kick the table and knock our kings and queens over! So forgive us if we can't focus on your little crush while we're being fucked from every direction!"

The sudden change of tone made the Director flinch and pale, and he quickly scampered to his large, leather chair to sit before his knees gave in beneath him. The Chairman, as he called himself, rarely swore, doing so only when a situation was nearing the point of no salvation, or when a subordinate managed to piss him off. Realizing that both of those occasions had presented themselves, he quickly tried to calm himself. "I… I… I apologize, sir," he said, trembling slightly.

"Spare me," the Chairman huffed over the speaker. "The operation would have gone as planned had anyone but Wesker interfered. Even if Mercer had found the operators, the boy would still have died. Wesker did something to him, Kakuzawa, and we suspect that something is going to become a considerable thorn in your side on your quest for your little queen."

"What… What happens now?" Kakuzawa asked warily.

"Now, you continue doing what we are funding you to do. You will continue your work with the Diclonii. We will deal with Wesker, Mercer and Blackwatch. We realize that, because of Mercer's actions, you are… 'understaffed'. We have influence in a small PMC. They have graciously agreed to enter your service free of charge. You will use this to your benefit. You will not ask who they are, you will not ask how they sustained themselves, you will not ask where – or how – they conscripted soldiers and you will not ask them how they obtained the weapons and vehicles they have access to. Are we clear, Director?"

The orders scared Kakuzawa slightly. He'd worked with the Chairman's sanctioned troops once before, and it was an experience he would rather not recall. They had put Blackwatch – the pre-Mercer Blackwatch – to absolute shame in terms of ruthlessness, precision and effectiveness. Still, he couldn't refuse the Chairman's orders. Weak as they currently were, they were still the Illuminati. One did not simply refuse aid from them.

"Crystal, sir," the Director replied shakily. "Wh-when can I expect them?"

"They are already en route, Director," the Chairman replied. "They will arrive in eleven hours. Use them as you will. Our Russian friend will also be contacting you soon – he wishes to repay Albert Wesker for the 'gift' he gave those ten Cleaners. A futile action, but he's willing to cooperate with you. His men will assist the good soldiers I have sent you… but they are still fodder."

"S-sir?" Kakuzawa asked, eyes wide at the implications.

"My knights and bishops are more valuable than his pawns, Kakuzawa," the Chairman said icily. "Keep that in mind… Oh, and Director?"

"Yes, sir?" Kakuzawa said, finally calm and collected as he had been before this whole clusterfuck. His face had settled back into its smug, smirking mask, and his posture had relaxed greatly once he had processed that he was going to receive a small army to work with.

"Alongside your father, Raymond McMullen was one of our most valuable assets. He was also a fool. Every action he took regarding Blacklight and Redlight was wrought with idiocy and false superiority. His inaction and lunacy led to the Manhattan incidents, and the loss of our benefactors and investors…" The Chairman paused. "Today, he does not exist."

Kakuzawa gulped at the implication, his mind drawing conclusions as fast as it had made his plans regarding the Diclonii. His suspicions were proved correct when the Chairman spoke again. "You will not find any trace of Raymond McMullen today. His birth certificate, his financial and educational records, his family tree, his friends and their family trees – all has been removed, destroyed and erased. His research was either pawned off to other great minds or destroyed as well. All of this, because he failed us. All of this, because he made mistakes." The Chairman was silent again, before speaking up again, curtly and directly:

"Director… Use this information as motivation – and do not make the same mistakes."

Then the line went dead.

In the dim lighting of the island fortress' comms tower, Specialist-Captain Robert Cross sighed. He'd been dreading this moment since he'd looked at the calendar one week prior, not because of the fact that he had to establish communications with Fort Detrick, but more because of who he had to establish them with. Normally he'd only have to contact Fort Detrick in cases of extreme emergency, like a viral outbreak or a massive act of bioterrorism, but after the debacle with the Supreme Hunter, the attempted murder of the 'Queen' of the Diclonii, and the resurrection of Albert Wesker, it was no surprise that he received orders from Detrick.

I expect established communications in one week. I want all the details, no matter what Mercer's orders are. Do not disappoint me.

Cross shuddered slightly. Specialist-General Darius Creed, the man who took the seat of power in Blackwatch after Randall's death and Rooks' 'retrenchment', was a very difficult person to deal with, mainly because he was so calm and controlled that you had absolutely no idea that you were pissing him off until after he was pissed off. The man was fearsome, in all honesty – he'd retained the same sense of justice and morality that Cross himself had, and yet, he had all Randall's ruthlessness and all Rooks' willingness to inch closer to 'the line' as well. He was the kind of person who'd ruffle a kid's hair as he passed them, only to turn back around and execute one of his men for whatever they did wrong without a shred of warning, mercy or hesitation. In public. In broad daylight.

And now Cross had to tell this volatile man that they had not only failed to protect Kaede properly, they also allowed her spouse to die and then be resurrected by someone who was, in every sense of the word, a colossal threat to mankind who would without doubt shamelessly exploit the debt that the boy owed him.

What fun.

"Cross," the speakers suddenly bleared to life, casting the muffled, slightly hollow voice across the darkness of the room. "Speak. How was the queen's life endangered?"

Cross cleared his throat. "As you know, General, Mercer's findings and recent evaluations had determined that Kaede Riggs was suffering from some kind of amnesia, forced either by herself or an external influence. Due to the uniqueness of Mercer's composition, he was able to relay several memories from Kaede's parents to her, much like Elizabeth Greene did to him in Manhattan. The influx of memories and the facts they held led to an identity crisis and, by extension, a large amount of panic. In her haste, Kaede made her way to a CH-46 assigned to her and her family. The pilots of the chopper saw her state and agreed to take her away from the source of her worry, but not before being joined by a… friend of hers."

"The one you call Meg," Creed stated matter-of-factly. "She was mentioned in the reports. Continue. We were told the Seaknight was shot down?"

"In a manner of speaking, General. A group of rogue Diclonii hurled debris at the chopper, and knocked it out of the air. Pilots Reynald Rudd and Melissa Johnson were both killed in action."

There was silence for a few moments, before the General spoke up again. "I see… We will have their families tended to and their funerals paid for in full. Continue. Miss Riggs and the one you call 'Meg' encountered something near the crash site?"

"The Supreme Hunter, sir," Cross said gravely. "It made quick work of the Diclonii and proceeded to attack Meg and Kaede. Kaede suffered an injury in which one of her common carotid arteries were cut open. Fortunately, Meg was there to stop the bleeding. The Hunter was later intercepted by her current lover, delayed, and then intercepted again by Mercer and driven away. Kaede and Meg were successfully extracted from the crash site, and the viral outbreak released by the Supreme Hunter was purged by a strike force led by Operative Emerald."

"This is disturbing, Captain," Creed spoke, making Cross frown in confusion. "It has been proven time after time that Mercer, due to his constant state of evolution, is the Supreme Hunter's better. Why did he not kill it?"

"I… I have no idea, sir, though if I were to hazard a guess I'd say he was more concerned with Kaede's extraction."

"Unsurprising, considering his history with her father – God rest his soul – but it is still a matter that causes me no small amount of discomfort. Mercer willingly refrained from terminating a severe threat in order to focus on civilians whose absolute safety had already been ensured," the General said calmly, his voice betraying no emotion except the hint of sympathy at the mention of Nathan Riggs. "I will speak with Mercer personally once he returns to the fortress. Moving on – the death of the civilian named 'Yuka' and the death and resurrection of Kaede's lover. Explain."

"The civilian Yuka was one of the two responsible for taking care of the two youngsters in Kouta's care. Unfortunately, she died before she could confirm anything, but I suspect that due to her motherly nature towards the two kids and her unrequited feelings towards her cousin, she was pressing to be informed of Alex's involvement with them. After a few arguments too many, Alex relented and showed her the same memories he showed Kaede. The imagery of Alex's past caused her to react aggressively, leading to an insult aimed at Dana Mercer and Operative Emerald – which, in turn, provoked a violent reaction from Mercer himself. His reaction made Yuka flee from the fortress, and the Blackhawk that was transporting her promptly got shot down near the coast of Kamakura."

"I was informed of the deaths, Captain. Those were fresh operatives – good men. Young, naïve and idealistic, but good men nonetheless. Their families are being tended to as well. I'm concerned that Alex allowed himself to snap at a civilian, though. Speak honestly, Captain – was the insult grave enough to provoke such a reaction from Mercer?"

"…I don't know, sir," Cross responded, doing his damndest to keep the hesitation out of his voice. Creed did not become a General just by fighting – he could read people, by voice alone. If he as much as -

"You're hesitating, Captain. What aren't you telling me?"

God dammit. Cross frowned as he closed his eyes. He owed Mercer a lot, yes – he'd hardly be as stable as he was now if it weren't for the first incarnation of the virus. But at the same time, his loyalty to Blackwatch – the Blackwatch under Creed's command – had been reaffixed the moment the General took over. Loyalty to a friend or loyalty to a cause… Fuck my life. Cross cleared his throat before speaking. "I… I thought it would be worth noting that Alex hasn't cared much about Yuka from the start. She was… low, on his list of priorities. I'd almost say he considered her expendable." He paused. "Sir, I don't –"

"Your honesty has been noted, Captain," Creed cut him off, "as have your loyalty to both our cause and to a personal friend. My name is not Peter Randall, Captain. I know this story has two sides. I have heard your opinion, now I shall hear Mercer's. Continue. I'm reading here that this Kouta boy was sent in to save his cousin alone." A pause. "Just what the fuck were you people thinking?"

Cross stiffened slightly. He had the feeling he had just stepped in range of the General's metaphorical shotgun. He had to tread carefully. "Had I been conscious and in a state to put a halt to the operation, sir, I assure you I would have. I was… incapacitated after my run in with Albert Wesker."

"I cannot believe Mercer would allow for such a thing to happen. Instincts take over when one's loved ones are threatened, and I'd hazard a guess that boy did things he would never do under normal or abnormal circumstances. You had no operatives near at the time of death, correct?"

"No, sir. Our operatives arrived shortly after their deaths. They found ten corpses and ten empty AK-47 rifles at the site, though, and after analyzing their faces, we've ID'd them as former Spetsnaz GRU, all dishonourably discharged. They were all dead, though – Mercer revealed they were killed by Albert Wesker, who'd been observing from the sidelines since the op began."

"And he's also responsible for Kouta's resurrection?"

"Yes sir. Mercer theorizes that Wesker injected the boy with a strain of the same experimental virus that brought him back to life and gifted him with posthuman abilities. There are several cosmetic differences, though, and this lead to Mercer assuming that, despite his claims of the contrary, Wesker did meddle with the strain somehow. He's woken up once in the past two weeks, and there have been several panics because of near-lethal spikes in his heart rate, but it's died down."

"This… this is even more disturbing than the fact that Mercer let the Hunter live… Why did he not apprehend Wesker?"

"Sir, with all due respect, you know he's never really won against Wesker," Cross said bitterly, recalling his defeat at the black-clad man's hands. "The man is the pinnacle of posthuman superiority, even more so than Mercer and his successor, James Heller. Fighting him would just have been a waste of effort on Mercer's behalf. That, and Mercer believes that there's a downside to the posthuman abilities he theorises Kouta will inherit. If there is, Wesker is the only person who could counteract that downside – and I'm thinking both of them know it."

There was silence for another moment as the General seemingly pondered Cross' words. "This is an unfortunate turn of events. Wesker is a bastard, Captain – whatever he's planning regarding Kouta and the Queen, it's going to affect their lives negatively in some way or form," He said sourly. "And… as much as I don't want to think along these lines, I need to consider all the previous effects of Wesker's involvement in different viral strains. The Raccoon City outbreak is at the forefront of these thoughts." Cross, however, immediately caught on, and felt a chunk of ice forming in his stomach at the thoughts.

"Sir… We can't…" He said, a mask of shock and horror on his face. "After everything they've been through, sir, we can't just –"

"I know, Captain. I know. It's a hard decision to make. But we need to put the needs of many over the needs of few. If Wesker somehow manages to manipulate the boy through the viral strain, he could end up manipulating the Queen as well. It's a chance we can't afford to take, Captain. Because of this, you have a new absolute order to follow."

Cross closed his eyes, a bitter expression on his face. His hands clenched into fists. He knew what the order would be, and he knew there was a very likely chance he'd have to follow it. Still, he was a soldier of Blackwatch. He had no choice – he would have to shut up and deal with it. In Blackwatch, there was no room for emotional attachment towards those considered 'too far gone'. He could only hope Kouta wouldn't be that far gone when he woke up… if he ever woke up.

"When the boy wakes up…" The General's voice broke his train of thought, and Cross knew the order would follow.

"If he can, in any way or form be classified as a threat, then you are to kill him."

Another thunderclap sounded across the roofs of the skyscrapers in Kamakura. The civilians had long since cleared out, fearing some kind of military battle, but the area had quickly been cordoned off by a mix of Blackwatch operatives as JSDF personnel. Impacts sounded off like cannon fire, making the soldiers below wince. The could literally see the shockwaves flaring outward from the top of one of the buildings. Blackwatch operatives had told the JSDF personnel that it was simply a 'combat exercise' and that they were 'testing new equipment in the name of civilian safety'.

The irony lay in the fact that both were at least half-true.

With a final collision of fists, the two fighters separated, leaping back to put distance between them. At an almost impossible rate, the cuts adorning Albert Wesker's body mended themselves, skin and muscle knitting back together as he threw his trademark smirk at his one-time associate and new rival. Alex Mercer, for all the cracks in the chitinous armor adorning his body, still kept that same, levelled stare directed at the maniacal superhuman. They had been at an impasse for roughly an hour – Wesker, for all his strength, could not stay close to Mercer long enough to break through his armour, for fear of being bisected and consumed. Yet Mercer, for all his different mutations and evolutions, could not wound Wesker severely enough to warrant a killing blow – the egoistical madman was simply too fast.

Uroboros had its perks, after all – especially once it was mastered.

"You never cease to amaze, Mercer," Wesker spoke with a confident voice, sounding as though he wasn't winded in the slightest. "Every time, you manage to come up with some innovative new way to tip the odds in your favour. Is defeat the catalyst for your pursuit of evolution… or is it something else? I wonder: will you regress again if someone else almost kills you? Or will you regress once you see something you don't like?"

"That makes no sense," Mercer scoffed as the cracks in his armour mended themselves, tendrils of black snaking around the fissures before dissipating into the same bony material. "What do you mean 'regress'?" He asked, one arm shifting into a veritable cloud of black tendrils before forming into a wickedly curved blade almost as long as he was tall.

"Think about it, Mercer," Wesker grinned. "All your life, you've been caught in this little merry-go-round; you can't decide whether you want to be the hero or the villain." His smirk broadened when he saw Mercer frown even behind the bony faceplace of his armour. "First you were cold, a monster; then you became a 'hero' to fight against the very virus you helped create. Then the world disappointed you, and just like me, you came to hate what humanity has become – and you acted on that hate, in the most stupid way possible. It almost got you killed, didn't it? The very man you thought would be your greatest weapon nearly killed you – and if it weren't for that old, hypocritical fool, Heller would have succeeded. Now… Now you've changed again. Changed for the sake of some deadbeat former marine and his dear, deranged, sociopathic little daughter." He looked Mercer dead in the eye, his irises glowing behind his shades. "I wonder… What will happen if you fail again, Mercer? Will you start hating humanity again? Will your 'Evolved' spawn once more and try to end everything?" He paused, his smirk evolving into a full grin. "Maybe you won't need the Evolved at all… After all, you've got the Diclonii now, don't you?"

"You have no idea how fucking wrong you are," Mercer said icily, glaring at the black-clad superhuman before him. "I've evolved beyond it all. I evolved beyond the hate when I learned that there are those who don't deserve it. I evolved beyond the superiority when I learned I was still inferior in a way, just as you are. I evolved beyond the disillusions because I saw the reality of humanity," he said, just a hint of pride in his voice. "I used to be like you. I hated humanity. I thought I was the next step, the next phase of evolution, the embodiment of superiority. I thought the masses were worthless scum, who didn't deserve to live. But I evolved beyond that, because of those who proved me wrong. I evolved beyond that because instead of focusing on what humanity isn't, and what they do wrong, I was shown what they are, and what they do right, and I was shown exactly why they'll always be our betters, despite our ascension." The bladed arm suddenly pointed right at Wesker, an accusatory gesture that singled the manipulative monster out.

"I evolved beyond you, Wesker," Alex growled, his eyes narrowed. "And in that evolution I saw something that destroyed my fixation on human weakness. I saw human strength. I saw a man, my own weapon, embrace what he was – not to destroy me, but to find his own daughter at any cost. I saw a woman disillusioned with what her brother had become move beyond it and forgive him. I saw a man move past the death of his wife and steel his face for the sake of his daughter, because she needed him. I saw that same man give his life so there could be a chance to find that daughter. I saw a Diclonius, broken and beaten by human darkness, grow to love another human and move beyond what she was, and I watched that same human grow to love her too, despite the pain she had caused him. I saw a woman so devoted to her family that she willingly took a stand against me, because she was worried about them."

He had started walking towards the dark-dressed superhuman, his blade still pointing forwards. "That is not weakness, Wesker," Alex continued, his voice still a low growl. "That's just a fraction of the strength humanity is capable of… and that strength is what makes humanity, and all its variants – be they normal, Diclonius or otherwise - superior," he said. He was now barely three feet away from Wesker, the tip of his bladed arm mere millimetres away from the man's chest. "No matter what you say, Wesker… No matter what you do, no matter what you plan, and no matter what you show me… As long as that strength is present, I will fight to preserve it… I will fight to unite it… and I will fight – and die – to protect it."

Wesker's face twisted into a mask of disappointment, his lips askew as he gazed at Mercer. "You seem oddly convinced of something you have no proof of, Mercer," he said icily. "Are you basing your motives off your own delusions now? I thought better of you."

"It's hardly a delusion, Wesker," Alex spoke, for the first time losing the growl in his voice, a smirk rivalling Wesker's own plastered on his face. "On the contrary, Wesker, I have proof - all the proof I need - in the fact that two, puny little humans managed to kill you."

Wesker's face hardened. His mouth, instead of its normal smirk, had pulled into a tight, straight line, and his brow had creased downwards into the beginnings of a frown. His eyes, though… They shone brighter than ever before, directing a glare potent enough chill a lesser being right at Alex. The viral monster, however, kept his stance, his blade still hovering a hair's breadth from the man's chest. Slowly, almost sullenly, Wesker took a few steps back, his glare never leaving his new rival. "They say truth is a matter of perspective, Mercer," he said coolly, his face still stony and dark. A loud whirring sound exploded behind him, and a Blackhawk of unknown affiliation suddenly hovered behind him. With practiced ease, Wesker leapt, covering the thirty foot distance as though it were nothing, and landing in the doorway with a loud thunk. He turned back to face Mercer, that same glare still in his eyes, before his trademarked smirk found its way back onto his face. "When your perspective clears, Mercer… When you realize your new 'truth' is nothing but a lie… I will be there – if only to end your misery once and for all. This is not over."

With those words, the Blackhawk banked away, flying into the distance to God alone knows where the megalomaniacal superhuman was hiding out. Releasing a contented sigh, Alex's armour slowly broke down, shifting into clouds and tendrils of biomass before retracting into his body, leaving him standing in his standard attire as he gazed at the now fleeing helicopter. "You're damn right this isn't over, Wesker," he said confidently, the beginnings of a smile on his face as he turned around and started to walk away.

"Hope you don't age, though – because you're in for a long wait."

…you can't save her…

It was cold. So very, very cold. It chilled him right to the bone, seeping through his skin and muscles or whatever was in place of his skin and muscles. He couldn't move. He couldn't move to build up heat, he couldn't move to exercise his aching muscles, he couldn't move to sit up, he couldn't move, not even to shiver or scream or retch or whimper in the cold, cold darkness around him and it was terrifying him to no end.

…what makes you think you can save her…?

Images, vivid and colourful and red and bloody and bright and bloody and red and intricate and bloody flicker before him, not a memory, but not an image, but something in between but not in between at all. A little girl stood staring at him, wide eyes and curious, and in a flash red and blood and blood-red blood her mutilated corpse was lying in a pool of red as blood seeped into her clothes, tinting it blood-red. Another flash, another bloody, blood-red flash. A handsome older man stood one second, smiling, and with the next flash his head was on the floor and a fountain of red was arcing out of the bloody hole where the neck was.

…you couldn't save them…

He shivered.

…you lied…

He tried to whimper.

…they died…

…you lied…

…you lied…

…they died because YOU LIED...

He tried to scream.

…liar…

…liar…

…LIAR!...

Another flash, another crimson flash. A group of armed men stood, doing nothing, talking amongst themselves. Another flash flickered, a split-second crimson curtain, and the men were flying backwards in showers of debris and red and blood, and explosion between them killing them and incinerating their limbs in showers of blood-red blood.

…you killed them…

More men were running. The men were gripping their rifles, fear etched on their face. Something bloody flashed again and the men were falling, bullets shredding chunks off their faces and chests and showers of RED and blood jetting from the BLOODY holes.

…you KILLED THEM!...

A man was standing over a woman bound to a chair. The woman's face was shadowed. The man seemed displeased. BLOOD flashed again. The man was on his back, eyes wide and glassed over as RED trickled from the corners of his mouth, his flak jacket BLOODY and stained from the BLOOD-RED blade of a knife.

…murderer…

…murderer…

…MURDERER!...

He couldn't scream. He couldn't whimper.

He tried to do so anyway.

He failed.

He tried to move.

He failed.

Another flash of RED. A woman stood before him. Brown hair, dark eyes, face etched in worry. Yet another flash of BLOOD blinded him. The woman's eyes were widened. Her right temple, blown outwards by a BLOOD-soaked bullet, had frozen mid-injury. Her shirt, her pants, her arms, her legs, covered in RED BLOOD.

…you couldn't save her…

No…

…you failed…

No!

…failure…

Shut up!

…failure…

Shut up!

…FAILURE!...

He tried to scream again.

And suddenly the RED flashes were gone. The view was serene. A tree, falling cherry blossoms, and a haunting tune, light and melodic, coming from a music box far out of sight. The light intensified. It blinded him. And when it dissipated… there was a woman. Two cat-ear-like horns on the sides of her head. Short, light red – red? – yes, red hair, and dark, almost crimson eyes staring at him. There was a soft smile on her face, a smile that made him feel peace. He didn't try to move anymore. He didn't need to. Nor did he try to scream and cry and whimper – why would he, in her presence?

…you want to save her…

…What?

…you want to protect her…

Y-Yes!

…what makes you think you can…?

I… What?

…you couldn't protect your sister…

…you couldn't protect your father…

…you couldn't PROTECT Yuka…

No… Leave me alone…. Leave me alone!

…you are a failure…

Shut up!

…failure…

Shut up!

…you cannot protect her…

Yes! Yes I can! Shut up!

…you are weak…

…you cannot protect her…

Leave me alone!

The image was changing. The cherry blossoms disappeared and the tree rotted, turning black and dead as the woman kept smiling. The bright light faded into shadow. The woman kept smiling. The horns on the sides of her head shattered. She winced, but kept smiling. Something RED trailed down her chin from the corner of her mouth.

…you cannot protect her…

RED flashed again. Her pale skin was caked with dried BLOOD. Her hair, once light, was now a dark shade of BLOOD-RED, almost as BLOOD-RED as her eyes.

…you cannot protect her…

…YOU CANNOT PROTECT HER!...

Finally, he could scream.

And deep inside the hospital on Blackwatch's island fortress, inside the small, isolated Ward Zero, amidst haywire machines and panicked doctors and a scream so inhuman it bordered on unholy…

…two emerald, cat-like eyes shot wide open.

-X-CHAPTER END -X-

*peeks out from behind riot shield* You're still here after that? Oh, good! *ducks back*

…

…Well, I have no excuses. It's been three years since I updated. Bad Chaos. Very bad. I'd go sit myself in a corner if I weren't hell-bent on finishing this chapter. I'm half tempted to say 'Hey! At least you got an update!' but that would make me an insufferable tw*t, so I won't.

Anyhow! On to business

IMPORTANT NOTE REGARDING THIS FIC:

Did that get your attention? Goody! Right – I won't mince words so I'll get right to the point. Exactly 1½ MONTHS from now, I will begin posting a rewrite of this story.

No, no, nonononono WAIT! Come back! And put away your bolters and don't cry "HERESY!" just yet. There's method to my madness.

When I first published this story way, way, waaaaaay back, I was very young, very excitable, very inexperienced and very, very fixated on Badassitude. As you can guess, at least one of these things remained (you have three guesses). However, recently I took a nice day off and I decided to read through my story and see how my skills of today measure up to the skills of me from 3+ years ago.

… I still get nightmares from time to time.

The faults of this story are of a magnitude so high, it makes me shudder. And yet, it's still my most popular story so far. For that, I have all you wonderful readers to thank (even if you aren't present anymore after deciding "F*ck that $$hole Chaos, no more waiting!"). This, however, leads to a predicament for me: I feel that this story, for all its popularity, is still quite an insult. You know. Because grammar and spelling and plot holes and stuff.

So I sat thinking to myself: I can do BETTER than this! I've grown! I've matured as a writer! I'm the top scorer of my English Grad Class, dammit! I realize I've made many flaws. I've COMPLETELY downplayed Lucy/Kaede and Nana's utter badassitude, I've rushed into Kouta's (canonically non-existent) Badassitude too quickly, and the OC's I wrote are all over the place in terms of development. Hell, even the NON-OC's are all over the place in terms of development.

As such, I have decided that I will begin working on Blacklight: Relight post haste. I do this both because I want to improve on my flaws, and I want to make it up to the readers for writing a story that, despite the Badassitude, is all over the place in every other department.

I say I will start in 1½ months for one sole reason: I want input from YOU, my dear readers (few as you may be). I will be retooling my OC's, rewriting the canon character to fit their canon personalities more closely, fixing up plot holes and glaring dialogue issues and the like. It's still a multicrossover, though – that I refuse to change.

SO: Let me know, dear readers. What do YOU want to see more of? What do YOU want to see less of? What do YOU love about this story, and what do YOU hate about it? Please, leave me your thoughts in a review or send me a PM with your opinion in it, as well as all the choice flames and curses you want to use to liven it up (yes, here's looking at YOU, Black Vendetta :P). Seriously though, I really, really want to fix this story up, but I can only do so if YOU, my dear readers, assist me with it.

So! Thank you to all readers who've stood by me despite my 3+ year hiatus. Thank you all for actually reading in the first place, and thank you all for your continues support. Look out for Blacklight: Relight in 1½ months! I can promise more action, more character development, a bit more romance (maybe?) and last but not least, loads and LOADS more Badassitude! (The absolutely AMAZING author Peptuck summarized this way of thinking magnificently: 'When in doubt, err on the side of kicking ass!' Oh, and feel free to check out his fics too – they're amazing).

Well, readers, until next time, thanks again for all the support over the years,

Chaos out!