I do not own Resident Evil, or any of it's characters. Only the lucky bastards who work at Capcom can boast that...Bastards =)
A brief warning to the reader: Many characters in this story are entirely fictional; even more so than the usual suspects. I found in the process of writing this, that sub-characters were required, to give the story more depth. Hopefully, you enjoy my poetic license, rather than condemn it, but I'll understand if all the purists in the Resident Evil fandom hate me, spit on me, despise me, or just plain want to vomit down my neck after decapitating me. I sort of hate myself, too; but my feverent wish is that you enjoy this story for what it is...A work of fiction.
Fire Rekindled
Prologue
A man steps out of a sedan. He is wearing a black dress suit, the kind that business men wear to important meetings, the ones that make them seem pretentious and unapproachable. His blue collar cologne was obvious to Jill's eyes, and she casually turns left; the first door she could find. Praying that the knob will turn, she's distressed to find that it's an apartment building, a long list of call buttons on the side of the door.
Turning her head for a quick glance at the man in the suit, Jill swallows her doubts and presses a random button in the fray, holding it down. A faint buzzing noise issues, and just when she's about to give up on that person and pick another button, a man's voice comes over the speaker.
"Hello? Who's this?" The voice is distorted and warped sounding, making it hard to hear the words clearly.
"It's Jill. Hurry, open up, it's wet out here."
"Jill? I don't know anyone by that name. I think.." He started, but Jill held down the button, cutting him off.
"Open up the door, baby, You'll remember me." Jill said, taking a shot in the dark with this one; the man in the suit was looking around now, scanning the faces in the late afternoon crowd, thick clouds making it dark outside. The day's earlier heat pressed in, the humidity making the ends of her hair curl against her skin. She couldn't let herself be seen; it could cost them everything.
"Oh, will I? What do you look like, maybe a face with the name?" Jill groaned, she was already tiring of this game; she pressed the button down, lowering her face to the speaker.
"Why don't you let me come up so you can see me? I'm all wet..." Jill's voice was purposely seductive, or what she hoped was, anyway.
The buzzer rung, and she heard the 'click' of the door's lock disengaging. She slipped hurriedly inside, shaking off the little droplets of rain on her coat. Sighing, Jill climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time, her heart hammering in her chest. They'd shut down five city blocks at least if they found any trace of her; which would put Chris in danger, too. They'd gotten separated at the bus station when Jill had spotted one of "The Suits" talking to his sleeve while leaning up against a wall.
So the pair had split, their com links silent. It had been two hours since Jill had seen her partner, but she just couldn't seem to shake her pursuers, bumping into one every few blocks. It was insane how closely they'd been following her, honestly it made her nervous as hell.
A door at the end of the hall opened, and Jill's hand touched her gun in the shoulder holster, but hesitated when she was sure that she saw someone familiar step out into the dimly lit corridor.
"Hey, pretty lady; where'd you go?" His voice rang out, teasing. Walking forward, gun hand itching, Jill was silent as she moved in the shadows. The tall man in front of her turned his head to look at a noise behind him, so Jill moved lightning quick. Her gun was out, pointed at the back of his head.
"Here I am," Jill whispered, her lips turning up into a victorious smile. She'd caught him unawares. Perfect.
In a move that was quicker than she could see, he'd turned around and grabbed her wrist, pulling her handgun out of her grip and pinning her against the wall effortlessly. He smirked at her, the dimples in his cheeks showing.
"Nice try, partner." Chris said, amusement shining in his eyes. "But I'm better at this than you are." Jill snapped her teeth at his face, a little piqued that he'd gotten her...again. The man had reflexes better than a cat's.
"Not fair, you knew I was coming." Jill defended, a mock frown puckering her face. Chris let her go, and handed her pistol back to her.
"Hey, you're the one who pulled on me. I just reacted." Chris shrugged nonchalantly, turning back into the apartment he'd come out of. He gestured for her to follow. Looking in, she was shocked to see that it was bare; not one spec of furniture, no chair, couch, table, lamp, nothing.
"What is this? Did you finally rent yourself an apartment and decide to move off my couch?" Jill asked, eyes large and her smile huge. Comically hopeful.
"No, dumb-dumb. It was empty when I got here; I've been holed up for an hour or better. They had a dog. I feel bad about having to shoot it; German Shepard." Chris pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, flipping it open with one hand and as he shook one loose from the pack, his Zippo lighter materialized in his other hand, lit and waiting. All the movements fluid, sure. His muscular chest rose as he inhaled deeply, and Jill looked out the window hurriedly, avoiding his piercing blue eyes.
"You did what was necessary. No fault in that," Jill holstered her weapon, pulling out her own pack. She could feel Chris' eyes on her for a moment, before he dropped slowly to the floor, his back against the wall, his arm resting on his bent up knee. It was still awkward, after all this time, after living together again; their break up had created a gulf between them. His dating Sheva had made that gulf an ocean.
"Awful waste, though." Chris said, dragging on his smoke and staring off into space. They stayed like this for a while, quiet and still. Jill sank against the wall across from him, and closed her eyes; exhaustion pressing in on her like a ten ton weight.
The sun outside sank down lower, creeping around the slitted blinds with brilliant oranges and pinks, casting the room in an omnipresent glow. It wasn't uncomfortable, being in the same room with him, they were still good enough friends to sit in silence. Another cigarette appeared in his mouth smoothly, and he lit it quickly, before clearing his throat.
"I'm sorry, you know," the apology fell out around his lit smoke, loud after the silence. His eyes searched her face, sought to catch her stare. Jill felt her eyes shifting to avoid his searching blue orbs. "Jill?"
She met his gaze finally, reluctantly. Her wounds were still raw, gaping; her feelings still muddled over the whole affair.
"Yeah," She said lamely. "Me too." She didn't want to hear he was sorry, didn't want to know that he regretted anything. Jill had no desire to argue, not now. It wasn't the place, nor the time, and anything he had to say to her on the subject could wait.
"Alright, fair enough," he said, disappointment and anger seeping into his tone. "You want to hole up for the night, or make our grand, daring escape under the cover of darkness?" He smiled easily, the foul mood gone and forgotten as only he could do so quickly. She thought of staying, mulled the idea over. They could sleep in shifts, wait it out. But then again, if they had brought out one dog, what's to say they didn't have fifty more at their disposal? Besides, if they stayed here, she'd more than likely be forced to deal with more awkward attempts at apologies.
"We'll wait for two more hours; let it get good and dark. You get the first shift, I'm gonna sleep for a few winks." Jill commanded briskly, taking off her jacket and wadding it up on the floor as a pillow. She lay on her back, adjusting so that her guns weren't biting into her sides so bad, and closed her eyes. Sleep claimed her quickly, dragging her down into dreamless nothingness.
"We've lost them, sir." one suit said to another. The first man cringed as he watched the color rise in his boss' face.
"Well, then, find them, lieutenant." The older man gritted through his teeth, a vein popping in his forehead as he kept his voice low.
"Sir, working on it. I have every man on it; a perimeter set at five square blocks; but Intel said.." He was cut short.
"I don't give a damn, Lieutenant Baker, what the hell Intel told you. I want those two in custody five minutes ago, do you understand me?" The older man said, his voice venomous. A third man walked up, saluting to the two, before falling to attention.
"What is it?" The one in charge bit out, his temper barely in check.
"Command says to pack up. Primary target has been located, eighty miles south of our current location." The commander felt a trill of excitement; Project Phoenix was all that mattered. Forget his personal stock in this little chase; Chris Redfield could wait until another day.
"Tell the men to regroup. Our mission parameters have just changed." A grin split the Corporal's face, and he turned his back on his subordinates, showing the other side of his visage. A jagged scar, nearly four inches long, running from temple to jawline, puckered there, prominent and ugly. He'd have his revenge, one way or the other. A Redfield was a Redfield after all; and he'd already assassinated two of them.
That had been before he'd been scarred, before he'd ever met Chris Redfield.
An Air Force Corporal, he'd once been Redfield's superior officer. And the son of a bitch had cut up his face in a rage; Oh yes, Chris owed him. He'd have his pound of flesh before this was over.