Claire Redfield sat nervously in the waiting room. She had been dragged from her office cubical at Terra-Save head quarters by four armed suits with guns. They were federal agents, they had no arrest warrant but they warned her it was a matter of national security. They herded her to a black van with blacked out windows, she repressed her urge to make a snarky comment about how it looked like a rape-van. She figured they'd insist it was a spy-van. It looked very much like a rape-van to her though. The drive from New York City to Washington DC was long and quiet. They pulled up to an office building, which she recognized as not being too far away from the FBI building. They lead her in without saying a word. They brought her through the lobby and up an elevator to the waiting room she was currently sitting in.

She was worried for a while that it had something to do with Chris. She had been worried sick about him since he went missing on Christmas Eve. She'd been informed that they'd found him and that he had a case of post traumatic stress amnesia, but she received a phone call after his latest mission (two months ago) from Chris, telling her he'd gotten his memory back and he'd be home as soon as he was done wrapping things up in China. She knew if it were about Chris, she'd be talking to someone at the BSAA office, which was in another building.

After a few hours, constantly being watched by the armed suits, a door to a nearby conference room opened and a woman in a black suit emerged. She had graying hair, probably in her late forties or early fifties. She wore glasses and had a cold calculating look on her face. Claire didn't think she'd be getting along with her, or anyone else in this building, very well.

"Ms. Redfield," she said, more as an order than a question. Claire took that as a cue to stand up. The woman regarded her with a stiff nod. "This way please," she said, though her voice showed no signs of politeness and much more of a commanding sense. She followed the woman into the room. There were three empty chairs in a neat row in the middle of the room; the chairs were surrounded by a semi-circular table. There was a large UN crest hung up on the wall in the back of the room. So she was answering to the UN for something, Claire was taken aback by this. She had thought herself to be on relatively good terms with the UN, especially with her association with Terra-Save; which was recognized and even funded in part by the UN. There were several men and women at the table, with little posts with their respective countries flags on them. The woman, who ordered her inside, was from England (which Claire figured based on her accent). There was another, younger, man from England, a there were five different men from China, two from Germany, two from Russia and one from France. They all looked at her pointedly as she came into the room. The English Woman motioned her to the three chairs. Claire sat down in the middle one.

"Ms. Claire Redfield," the English woman announced. "Survivor of Raccoon City, single handedly assaulted an Umbrella Corporation head quarters in Paris, Imprisoned on Rockfort Island (off the coast of South Africa), escaped to Antarctica, rescued by her brother (Chris Redfield of the BSAA). A Literature Major, working for the Activist organization Terra-Save, was present at the Harvardville Airport T- virus outbreak and have been working for Terra-Save ever since," she read from an opened paper file. "Only family still living is your brother Chris, no husband, no boyfriend who's ever lasted longer than a few months," she finished; her cold arrogant demeanor dominant. She was seated at the center of the semi-circular table; she was looking Claire square in the eyes.

"Would someone mind telling me why I'm here?" Claire asked, frustrated and angry. She figured the Government would have kept a file on her and maybe kept tabs on her, but not the UN. She didn't realize she was such a person of interest. "And what does my personal life have to do with any of this?" she demanded.

"You are here by order of the UN and given the circumstances the UN's authority supersedes everything including American Federal Law," the woman snapped. "The charges to be held against you, if any, will be defined as these hearing proceeds," she went on. Claire was starting to realize why hardcore American conservatives dislike the UN.

"How does the UN have authority here? What's this all about?" asked Claire.

"What this has to do with, Ms. Redfield, is a very dangerous man," explained the woman. "A terrorist, he has attacked and destroyed three Chinese government facilities as well as facilities of Russia and Germany in the past two months, he single handedly wiped out all of China's combat ready Special Forces units," she went on. "Last month, the Chinese army lured him and his cohorts into a trap with an entire army division, he got away. Crack snipers of the UK, Germany and Russia have emptied full clips at this man and have hit nothing but air!" her voice betrayed a high amount of tension and fear. "We have reason to believe that you may be associated with this man, Ms. Redfield, whether you realize it or not. If you are or have been in contact with this man in any way shape or form, you must tell us now. If you aren't or have not, then your input on this man could be instrumental in stopping him. Do you understand me?"

Claire was speechless. She had no idea what they were talking about. None of this had been on the news, which didn't surprise her. Anything this big and this dangerous would be kept under wraps. But she'd said it was mostly done by one man. Chris had told her once about the Chinese Special Forces; they were relatively new, but drew inspiration from the Red Guardians of the Chinese Cultural Revolution. They were fanatically loyal to the Communist Party, were well trained and very tough. Chris had served with them on counter-terrorism ops around the world. He'd told her they weren't much for conversation; she could tell he didn't like them at all. But what did this have to do with her. She didn't know anyone capable of doing all that, not that she knew of anyway.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but if I can help I will," Claire said with the utmost sincerity. The woman looked at her pointedly, and then nodded.

"I believe you Ms. Redfield," she began. "As you can see, we are expecting a few more ladies here; whom I believe you know," she said motioning to the two seats on either side on Claire. "But let us continue to talk while we wait for them. If you wouldn't mind Ms. Redfield, please explain to us the events that occurred on Rockfort Island and in Antarctica in late 1998," she finished. Claire was taken aback by this; they had to have read her statement in her profile. Claire opened her mouth to ask why, when the English woman cut her off. "I ask you this because parts of your report are vague, and our problem is directly linked to your experiences. Please allow me to narrow what we are asking down," she said and adjusted herself, she exchanged glances briefly with the young Englishman sitting to her left then turned her attention back to Claire. "What role exactly did the young man Steven Burnside, play in your escape from the Island and what happened to him in Antarctica?" she asked.

Claire chocked back a tidal wave of emotions when she mentioned his name. She had tried not to think about him for years, each time she thought she'd gotten him out of her head, he came back. Usually in dreams; not nightmares like most of her other dreams involving the things which happened to her in 1998. Her dreams of him were usually her happiest, but when she'd wake up the bitter pain of her lose overwhelmed her. She would awake late at night and cry herself back to sleep. She'd tried falling in love with other men; she thought she had a few times, but in the end none of them could make her forget. Maybe she didn't really want to. She told the English woman and the rest of the UN representatives a more detailed version of what happened on the island, it took a while. She told them how Steve had opened up to her over time, and saved her life by putting a bullet in his father's head (he'd been infected with the T-virus. She told them how they'd escaped together and had been captured by Alexia Ashford, how he 'd been infected with the T-Veronica strain and mutated into a large rage filled giant but saved her life before Alexia killed him and how his body reverted back to his human form before he died. She told them her brother and she escaped the facility just in time to avoid being killed by the self destruct.

"Did he have any last words?" asked the Englishman. Claire was taken back, not only by the question but by the man's voice. His voice was deep and had a dark sense to it. His eyes and hair were both a dark brown. He was handsome but Claire sensed something sinister about him.

"What does that matter?" asked Claire, wanting to keep at least that much to herself. The man stood up from his seat.

"I imagine that you two became very close in the short time that you knew each other," he said as he began pacing around to the end of the table. His face and voice expressed no emotion, she could tell he wasn't mocking her but he made her feel uneasy all the same. "You were both isolated, he was the only one in the facility not actively trying to kill you, he saved your life, even put his father down to save you. You said that he put himself in danger a number of times for your sake and even gave his life to protect you when his body had been mutated beyond the ability for any human being to have any control of himself," the man explained. "If I were lying on my death bed after saving a woman's life and having the mental and will power to fight against the loss of my own mind to protect her even knowing it would lead to my death, I imagine I would say something along the lines of…I love you," he finished.

Claire's breath caught in her throat. She strained every nerve in her body to hold back tears. The man was right, but she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge it. Her pride wouldn't let her. She'd once learned that pride came before the fall. But she felt that complying with him at this point would be to surrender. Who was this guy? How did he manage to figure it out? She had told them very little about her and Steve's social interactions and conversations.

"Who the hell are you?" she managed to ask, her voice sounding very close to a growl. Her eyes were twisted in frustration to the point of a glare.

"This man is Captain Robert McMorris," explained the English woman, as he moved toward the inner middle of the table stopping just in time to not obstruct the English woman's view. "He is a sniper of the British Special Air Service; he has recorded over three hundred confirmed combat kills around the world. He also has a doctorate in British Literature (one of your specialties) and a bachelor's degree in psychology," she explained. "This man is one of the snipers who tried to stop the terrorist we're after. He has been pursuing him ever since he surfaced in China; in the backdrop of the attack on Lanshing. Not only is he a hardened veteran but he is frankly one of the smartest men on this planet. He is here to consult and to assist in questioning," she finished with a sense of pride, no doubt Capt Morris was a prized trophy to the British government as well as the UN. Claire looked at him in question, which he took as a prompt to continue.

"Do you know what the meaning of love is, Ms Redfield?" he asked. Claire looked back at him blankly. "In this day and age so many people have distorted views and misconceptions about love," he went on. "Like most bad things of this century, it started after the first World War. Women whose husbands came home from the war bitter, traumatized and even maimed insisted on getting divorces because they simply didn't sign on for that kind of an emotional burden. And of course in the 60s and 70s there were the hippies and their so called 'free love' movement. In that time, they use to say that love means never having to say you're sorry," he continued with a bitter chuckle. "There are few people more delusional then them in the annals of history. To this day people in modernized cultures all over the world view love in a purely hedonistic and shallow way, all about sexual intrigue and the glory of physical intimacy," he continued, pacing around Claire's chair and waving his arms with enthusiasm. Claire seriously doubted the man's sanity, even though she knew that the man was dead on about society. "But do you know what the true meaning of love is?" he asked. He paused with his back to her, as if waiting for her to answer.

"Sacrifice," she answered. She repressed another wave of emotion. McMorris turned on his heel and gazed into her eyes. He raised his hands and softly applauded her.

"Well done, Ms. Redfield," he congratulated her, as a teacher acknowledges a favored pupil. She felt he was patronizing her. "Then wouldn't you say Steven Burnside did love you?" he asked. "Isn't that why, you've managed to stay single all this time. And burry yourself in work trying to prevent another nightmarish outbreak like the one you experienced?" he asked, seemingly rhetorically. Claire lowered her head as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "I will take that as a yes," he said. Claire sniffed hard and winched as she took control of her emotions back.

"Well, now that you've made a complete dog and pony fiasco of my personal life," Claire began, barely concealing her rage. "Would you mind telling me how any of this is relevant?" she demanded. Just then, the door behind her opened. She turned to see two women, she knew both of them. One was Rebecca Chambers and the other was Jill Valentine, both were dressed casually and wore the same confused expressions on their faces as she did when she came in. There were four armed suits behind them. "Jill, Rebecca!" she greeted them. They were both delighted to see her. They asked her what she was doing there.

"Ladies," called the English woman. "If you would all please sit down, we will continue this hearing," she said. The woman explained all she had to Claire earlier. Rebecca and Jill both agreed to answer any questions they could. "Now for starters, I trust you're all at least somewhat familiar with these men," she said as she handed McMorris two large photographs, which he handed the three women sitting side by side. They were mug shots of Carlos Oliveira and Billy Cohen. Jill knew Carlos and explained how he had helped her escape Raccoon City. Rebecca was shocked to see the photo of Billy Cohen but told them how he and she had fought through the mountains the night before the incident at the Mansion outside Raccoon City and that he was killed in the fighting, as she had explained years earlier. "Have you heard from Carlos Olivier since the Raccoon City incident?" she asked Jill. She hadn't. "Was Billy Cohen's body ever found?" she asked. It hadn't. "Mr. Cohen's body was actually discovered over a year ago, in China," the woman explained.

"What?" Rebecca gasped in shock.

"It was indeed," she said. "In fact his body assisted in breaking into a secured Chinese government facility in Beijing and killed several Chinese soldiers and policemen before vanishing again without a trace," said stiffly. Rebecca's face was distorted in shock, though Claire was certain there was a sense of relief in her eyes at the last part of what the woman had said. "How certain were you that he was dead?" the woman asked. Rebecca looked back at her blankly. "If you continue to cooperate with us, I assure you that we will not expose you for your false report, Ms. Chambers," she said with a cocky grin. "Have you had any contact with Billy Cohen since the incident in the mountains?" she asked.

"No!" replied Rebecca. "I let Billy go because he saved my life. I haven't heard from him in any way since," she said. The woman seemed convinced and asked Jill the same question about Carlos.

"No, not since we expose Umbrella," Jill answered. "He helped ups fight Umbrella security and helped gain the proof we needed to expose the corporation for what they'd done. Then we went our separate ways," she said. The woman looked at her pointedly but did not press the matter. She handed McMorris another photo, he handed it to them. It was a photo of four men walking down a sidewalk in a busy city, where were Chinese letters on signs near them; betraying that the photo was taken in China. Billy Cohen and Carlos Oliveira were among them but the three of them didn't recognize the other two.

"The other two men in the photo are Bruce McGivern and Kevin Ryman," the English woman explained. "Bruce McGivern is an American agent, who fought against Umbrella after the Raccoon City incident. He was active up until he went into hiding two months ago after the US government declassified his operation in Beijing last year," she said. "Kevin Ryman, is another survivor of Raccoon City, he enlisted in the US Army soon after and when the BSAA was formed he joined them. McGivern recruited him into his own team and the four of these men, with inside help attacked a Chinese government medical facility, stealing sensitive information from the database and a high profile asset of the Chinese government," she explained.

"What was the asset they stole?" Claire asked. The woman looked at her blankly.

"A powder cage," she answered. Claire was about to ask for clarification.

"A living weapon of mass destruction," said Capt. McMorris.

[1 year earlier]

Bruce McGivern looked out the window of the RV. It was a large RV, capable of comfortably fitting a big family, it had its own facility, kitchen, TV and air conditioning to assure the comforts of home. And it gave the four men who lived in it enough space to live comfortably, tension had been very high from the start with his team, but he knew they were the best ones for the job. They all had experience with BOWs and shared a strong distain for any remnants of Umbrella Corporation. But he knew they weren't going to like this, he didn't know about the rendezvous point until they pulled up (other than the address his contact had left him). It was a sad old building on a less populated end of Beijing. A neon light sign read "Bar" in Chinese, with an arrow pointing down a concrete staircase to the basement of the building.

"You never said anything about the rendezvous being in a damn basement," Billy Cohen grumbled.

"I didn't know," Bruce replied, running his hand through his short yellow beard.

"Thought you said it was going to be at a Cantina, Amigo?" asked Carlos from the driver's seat.

"It is," said Bruce.

"A bar in a basement," Billy growled. "There are a number of problems with fighting in a basement," Billy explained, with repressed anger. "For one thing, you're fighting in a basement!" he finished, almost shouting. "What was that one thing they always told us in boot camp about shit running downhill?" he asked rhetorically.

"I never went to boot camp, Chico," said Carlos. "I'm self taught," he said with a grin.

"There won't be any fighting," Bruce broke in, not wanting anymore bickering between Carlos and Billy; they hadn't exactly gotten along with each other the whole time. "If there is any trouble, I can handle it. But word has it, hardly anyone goes here this time of the week. I'm just going to meet with our contact, get the plan cleared up and that will be it. We'll move out first thing tomorrow morning. Make off in the getaway vehicle, case closed, time for a cold one," he said with his habitual sense of optimism.

"Let me get this straight," said Kevin sitting with his legs crossed on the couch, facing away from the window. "You're going to meet with our contact, a woman you may or may not be able to trust. She chose the meeting place, it's in a basement and you're going in unarmed?" he asked.

"Yep," replied Bruce.

"Great plan, boss!" said Kevin. "Color me jubilant!" he sneered.

"Relax," said Bruce. "Just keep an eye on things and if any cop or army vehicles pull up just radio me," he explained. "If worse comes to worse, break out the hard liquor," he said and nodded toward a stack of metal cases behind the driver's seat; the ones containing LMGs and RPGs. Bruce stepped toward the door, checking himself in a small mirror from his pocket. He was dressed casually in an "I Heart China" t-shirt and jeans. Satisfied with himself, he reached for the door handle.

"You signal us if anything goes wrong in there, Bruce," warned Billy. Bruce looked over his should at his team.

"If I'm not back within an hour, everything should be fine," he said with a wink. He exited the RV. The other three men slouched collectively.

"He might have at least asked her to bring her friends," Kevin grumbled.

Bruce and Ling had gone over the plan relatively quickly. She told him where the BOW was and how she was going to make her way to it. But she revealed a colossal new development. The scientists had not only stabilized the mutation but reversed it to the point where it no longer ran the risk of spreading out of control. The specimen maintained its original form and could no longer pass the virus on to others. The specimen's body was stronger, faster and with better reflexes than any human being. Its senses were heightened as well, hearing and seeing were excellent. But after a second beer, she handed him a file. He opened it to see a photograph of the specimen, with a personal profile. He read through it. There was one mystery solved.

"Well we certainly can't kill the specimen now, can we?" he asked his on again-off again wife.

"Technically we can," she replied with a flirtatious giggle. "I didn't think you'd want to though."

"You want to?" he asked her.

"No," she replied. "Old habits talking, I guess," she said.

"Most love stories are about a woman changing a man," said Bruce with his own flirty grin. "Funny how this love story turned out," he said with a wink. "Not that I'm complaining. I still consider myself the luckiest man on earth for having you."

"What makes you think, we've made up?" asked Ling with a raised eyebrow. Bruce grinned, almost pleadingly.

"Tomorrow is going to be dangerous," he pointed out. "You don't want to let your husband go out into harm's way without making up, do you?" he asked. She smiled sweetly and brought her hand up to his cheek, brushing through his beard. Then she ran her hand through her husband's grown out blonde hair. She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. Bruce broke away from the kiss after about five seconds. "Tell me again, what were we fighting about?" he asked.

"Something stupid," she answered. "Like last time," she finished and pecked a kiss on his lips.

"Last time, was when you ran away from the family farm in the middle of the night; with no explanation," he said. Bruce thought back to that summer (ten years ago) when he brought Ling home to the family in Texas. He'd been wise enough to tell them about her ahead of time, thus avoiding any frustrations from Hollywood romantic comedies about interracial couples meeting the soon to be in-laws without telling them anything about the race difference. The family loved her and she was happy beyond words to be accepted by them. The love making of the following night was proof enough of that. But the next morning she was gone. Bruce was devastated for months. Eventually she got word to him that she had run off because she was afraid that the Chinese government would make trouble for Bruce and his family. Another month went by and she showed up at his front door in the middle of the night. They married in secret in a small chapel in the country side. She kept doing her job for the government, which by now was mainly desked, and he kept doing his job (sometimes with inside help from her).

"That's not fair Bruce," she sighed.

"Don't worry, I'm not mad anymore," he reassured her with a smile. He took her cheek into his hand. "How about we make up for lost time?" he asked. The look on her face was all the answer he needed. Bruce paid their tab and ordered a room for the night, for two. They made up for lost time. After the love making, Bruce lay awake for a while before falling asleep. The mission had changed from sabotage to rescue. He had a feeling it was going to get dicey. He stroked his wife's cheek then closed his eyes. No need to worry about it till morning.