Section 1: The Team

Chris pulled his station wagon into it's respective parking space in the garage underneath a set of apartments. He killed the engine and exited the vehicle, heading towards the elevator which would take him to their room. He entered the elevator and pressed 17. He wished they had gotten something on the top floor which was 24, but then again, they were lucky to find a decent place period. The elevator stopped several times, once at the 1st floor, and again at floors 4 and 13. Just ordinary people, heading to their homes after the day's work.

Sometimes, he wished his life was that simple. It used to be, but after a brief stint in the Air Force, he settled down in Raccoon City and became a member of S.T.A.R.S. The rest was history. Now, he and the remainder of his S.T.A.R.S teammates, Barry Burton and Jill Valentine, along with his younger sister Claire, had anything but a normal life. They worked tirelessly to destroy Umbrella Corporation. What they had done to countless people was unforgivable. Raccoon City, Rockfort Island, and several other isolated incidents across the globe had felt the effects of Umbrella's bioweapons. The massive company's public appearance was only a front for its real purpose. The creation of viral agents and organic weapons were Umbrella's true goal. What they were planning on doing with these monstrosities, Chris didn't know. He only knew that they had to be stopped before more innocent people were killed.

The elevator stopped on the 17th floor. Chris left the elevator and turned right. At the end of the hall was their room. Pulling the key out of his jeans, he unlocked the door and opened it. Inside the small living room sat Barry, Jill, and Claire.

Jill was wedged in the corner desk on the computer browsing through websites, looking for any activities of Umbrella. They had all heard the news, and Jill herself had witnessed it first hand. The American government had ordered a nuke dropped on the remains of Raccoon City to prevent further viral contamination. What none of them knew was if it was Umbrella's doing, or if the American government had decided to take action. So, to find out, every night Jill sat on the laptop and dug through endless websites, looking for rumors, facts, and news.

It seemed that Umbrella was finally starting to crumble. Very slowly. So far, aside from some lowering stocks, the corporation seemed unaffected. None of them were sure if it was a result of the government, or if it was just experiencing a dip in the economy.

Barry and Claire where sitting on a bargain couch in front of the TV. Barry, gun lover that he was, had a disassembled Glock 17 spread out on the coffee table in front of the TV. Each tiny piece had been carefully cleaned and inspected. He was now reassembling the gun. Claire had her feet propped up on what little space was left on the table. She was half watching the early evening news and half watching Barry as he painstakingly reassembled the fragmented gun. Chris greeted them as he entered. Barry and Jill gave an affirmative grunt, both occupied with their current tasks. Claire, however, bounced to her feet, knocking over Barry's magazine and causing the firing pin to roll off the table. Barry's brow furrowed as he caught it. Claire hugged Chris as he entered.

Ever since Rockfort Island, and their subsequent "adventure" in the Antarctic, Claire had been a little more attached than usual to her older brother. He had made it clear that he had vowed to destroy Umbrella for what they did to his team and Raccoon City, but Claire decided to stick with him, despite Chris's opposition. He would much rather have her stay somewhere safer. But she was stubborn, and she wasn't going to voluntarily leave him, so that was that.

"Missed you," she said.

"I know," he replied and grinned. The way she acted was almost childish. They broke apart and Chris reached out and messed up the top of her hair. She batted his hand away. Normal sibling interaction. He threw his windbreaker on the small kitchen counter. Propping his leg up on the back of the couch near Barry's head, he drew up the leg of his jeans and removed a compact pistol from a leg holster. He ejected the clip from the miniature Walther PPS and dropped them in Barry's lap. Whether it seemed a little excessive or not, Umbrella was definitely hunting for them. Most of the guns they had were Barry's; the Glock on the table, the Walther that was on Chris's leg, the Steyr TMP tucked in the desk drawer, as well as the Mossberg 500 underneath the bed in the next room and an assortment of handguns were a small corner of Barry's real collection that he owned. As much as Chris would have liked the artillery, they couldn't possibly move any more weapons undetected.

Several of those guns came in useful in Paris. They were forced to leave France after Claire had been captured. Chris left to save her, leaving Barry and Jill to close shop and move out. An Umbrella strike team raided the house they were staying at. A firefight broke out, and Jill took a round in the chest. Thank God for Kevlar.

The four of them were most of the few people who knew the truth of what happened in Raccoon City. Chris, Jill, and Barry had experienced it first hand. Claire saw the effect of the virus outbreak in Raccoon City, as well as some Umbrella's secrets hidden in the Antarctic. Their testimony would be the final nail in Umbrella's coffin. Chris knew of two others who could help them: Leon S. Kennedy, a cop who saved Claire when she arrived at Raccoon City and helped her escape, and Rebecca Chambers, a teammate who survived the mansion incident with him. Leon had gone into hiding, doing his own part with an anti-Umbrella organization similar to theirs, but not quite so offensive. He regularly checked in with Chris and his group. He didn't know what happened to Rebecca. She had fallen off the grid, and they had been unable to contact her.

Chris walked over to Jill to see if she had any intel for him

"Sorry Chris," she said. "There hasn't been anything online about Umbrella. Just the usual company websites that promote it and it's political garbage. All the major news sites have nothing on their bulletins, either. I did find one interesting thing today, however." She loaded CNN's website and stretched her arms, then brushed her short brown hair out of her eyes. Chris peered over her shoulder and read off the screen. The President was making an announcement later tonight.

"Hopefully it's about Raccoon City," he said. "The media has been demanding answers non-stop since it was destroyed." Jill agreed with him. She winced as she shifted in her chair.

"How's the chest?" Chris asked.

Jill tapped the sore spot on her sternum with the knuckle of her thumb. Above the rim of her black tank-top, Chris could clearly see a small bruise. The bullet that hit her back in Paris was dangerously high; it almost missed the armor she wore.

"It's fine, it's just taking it's time," she reassured him. "I I.M'd Leon today and asked if he knew anything about Rebecca, but he didn't have anything for us."

"Alright, good job. Why don't you quit for tonight?"

Jill grinned. "I'll do that. Thanks Chris."

Chris sat down on the couch next to Barry. He had finished putting his Glock back together. He was now sliding the 9mm rounds back into the magazine. The broad shouldered man next to Chris had an equal debt to settle with Umbrella. Like Chris, his family had been brought into the whole mess. It was their back stabbing S.T.A.R.S commander, Albert Wesker, who was working for Umbrella at the time, who threatened Barry's wife and children. He was forced to comply with Wesker. The result was almost the death of the entire team. Chris guessed that luck was with them on that day. They managed to survive, and Barry's family was safe.

Barry placed the multi tool he was using in the front pocket of his fishing vest.

"How did the surveillance go Chris?" he asked.

"Fine. There was nothing suspicious at the HQ downtown. That doesn't mean there isn't, though. We'll continue to trade shifts over the week."

"Umbrella's stock went down another two points today. Nothing too unusual, but it hasn't risen in a week, which is unusual."

"Do you think the public is starting to figure it out?"

"Can't say for sure, but they will tonight if the President addresses what happened in Raccoon City."

Chris clapped a hand on his old friend's shoulder an stood back up. He walked over to the kitchen counter and sat next to his sister. He felt a little bad for Claire. He almost felt like he put her on the front lines of war she wasn't involved in. There was so much she had been through. Raccoon City was enough, but what had happened at Rockfort Island and the Antarctic was twisting the knife. She had lost someone close to her, although she never admitted it. Chris could see it in her eyes everyday. No matter how happy she was to see him, he always saw sadness in her. Chris hadn't had a chance to really address this issue with Claire, and the guilt of neglecting his sister was beginning to affect his duty. He decided to remedy that tonight.

"Are you holding up okay?" he asked her.

She rolled her eyes. "You ask me that every day, and every day I say 'yes.'"

"Sorry"

"Don't be."

Chris sighed. "Listen Claire, I know you've been stuck in here for a while. How about you and I grab something to eat. It's been awhile since we've been able to talk one to one."

Claire's eyes lit up. "Really? I thought we were suppose to keep a low profile."

"Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you."

Claire smiled. "I know." She quoted a line he always said to her "'You always keep your promises'."

Claire grabbed an old leather jacket from the coat rack and put it on over her shirt. It wasn't one of the special ones she collected along with her biker vests. Her "Let Me Live" vest was mangled beyond repair, but she still held onto it. It was folded in a drawer with the few clothes she had with her. She hoped the "Made in Heaven" vest was being taken care of by Sherry Birkin, wherever she was. The jacket she wore now was bought at a thrift store. She thought, in Claire's own words, "it had her charm". Claire had always been a tomboy, for as long as Chris could remember.

Chris slipped his own jacket on. He retrieved the Walther from Barry and concealed it on his leg again. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it. He told Jill and Barry where they were planning to go. It was a small burger place about a mile away, closer to the center of the bustling city they were in. He and Claire left, and rode the elevator to the parking garage.

"Next time, I get to pick the car." Claire said. She wasn't exactly a fan of the beat up station wagon, and made it known to Chris when he first showed up with it. Chris wasn't sure if his sister fully grasped their monetary system.

Every time they changed location, every trace of their existence was left behind, scrubbed clean of their tracks. Chris had no idea what happened to the SUV they had last time. He vaguely recalled Barry saying that he pushed it off a cliff. If they had to move again, Jill would probably have to hotwire something.

They pulled out of the garage and headed on their way. On the way, they chatted lightly about everyday things. Chris could tell that both of them were trying to sound normal. Nothing he said to Claire or heard from her interested him, and Claire probably would have agreed. Nothing in an everyday life could be more important than their current mission. Only when it was over could they fall back into the flow of life.

Chris and Claire arrived quickly and entered the restaurant. Luckily, their small talk held over until they got there. As they got out of the car and entered the building, neither of them noticed the black sedan passing by, slowing down and pulling over on the side of the busy street. As it did, it's tinted rear window rolled down, and the tip of a scope poked out, glinting in the setting sun. It whirred as it zoomed in on Chris and Claire, then snapped a few pictures.

There was a crackle of radio static.

"I.D confirmed: it's Redfield and his sister."

A voice called back over the radio.

"Redfield is considered extremely dangerous. Do not engage directly under public eyes."

"Copy that. I have a plan..."