DISCLAIMER: I do not own Resident Evil or any of the creations of Capcom.
Author's Note: This story is based off of works that I have previously hosted on the site when I was younger. The stories are rather shoddy, but if you wish to read them, good luck :P. This is not a sequal to the Cora line, although some familiar faces may come up, and some changes are made, so the Cora stories are not at all required reading. Enjoy!
Cassandra Spencer was a ghost. Once the heir to Red Umbrella, she now sat silently in a small café, sipping sullenly on a hot chocolate. Umbrella was dead, and the girl who was once a child prodigy, the best of the best, was now living in a small apartment that had no view and eating ramen noodles to make ends meet.
It wasn't fair. When the American government had finally mustered the courage to move against Umbrella, the former goliath had been but a shadow of itself. HCF and S.T.A.R.S. were striking their bases, taking their research, and the damage control was enough to stem the flow of their progress. Once the court case went in motion, fighting was just a formality. Umbrella was dead.
Oswell Spencer, Cassandra's father, may have spent years on the only child he ever really acknowledged, the T-Virus; but that didn't prevent him from fleeing the second he knew his work was over. He had refused to give Cassandra, or her brother or sister a hint of where he was going. Their mother was long dead, and the need for protection was non-existent. Cassandra Spencer, heir to Red Umbrella was a valuable woman. Cassandra Spencer of Toronto, Ontario, was no one.
At first, life outside of Umbrella had been crippling. She didn't know how to iron her clothes, operate a dishwasher, fix a leaky pipe, buy her own food from anywhere but a fast food store, take care of her finances, or buy herself new clothes. Her father had made sure that her every need was attended, and her world had been one of books, microscopes, theses, and a great deal of intellectual superiority.
Adapting had been hard, but now she was capable enough to survive on her own. Most of her grant, the only thing her father had left her, had been squandered on the joy of freedom, though. She had always had an interest in the arts, but her father refused to let her study it. She had bought a painting easel, and boards, a variety of paints and brushes, a guitar, a computer with no restrictions on it, and a keyboard. She may be no one, but she was a no one who was free, and she was finding herself beginning to get accustomed to this new life.
Eventually, she stood with a sigh, meaning to use the bathroom and head home. That's when she caught the eye of the man. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him. His dark hair was cropped close to his head, and his blue eyes were staring at her intensely – there was no mistake that she was the object of his gaze. She stared back. Who was he?
The hair cut suggested military, and the look on his face said that he knew her. Was he American? Umbrella? Or… S.T.A.R.S. had not been seen since Umbrella had fell, but… She felt herself tense. She had a few weapons from the rare time she had taken the field, but they were all back at the apartment. The danger was now.
She tossed a ten down on the table and walked out of the café quickly. She planned to head to the busy markets on Younge street and escape in the crowd until it was safe. Cassandra pulled her long dark hair back and glanced over her shoulder. The man walked casually out of the café, seemingly unworried. His stride was slow, his eyes simply glancing over the city streets. Cassandra's heart slowed. Just a mistake on her part, the man might have been checking her out, or maybe he was a regular at the café wondering who she was. She took a side street to avoid the crowd. Just when she thought she was adjusted to being no one…
"You have to stop this," Cassandra scolded herself out loud. "You're not anyone of consequence any more. You little fool; you're just a normal girl now. No degrees, no past, nothing!" Another woman strode out ahead of her onto the empty street. Cassandra hadn't seen her on any of her morning walks before, but the girl seemed to know the city. It was hard to get used to being around so many living, normal people at once, with varying schedules and habits. The facilities had only had a few hundred people and subjects, tops.
The girl stopped and pulled a gun out, pointing it squarely at the Spencer heir. Cassandra froze and her mind went blank. There was no regret or anger on the girl's strong face, and her dark eyes regarded her passively.
"Chris," she called. "Over here!"
Chris. Chris. Chris. Cassandra felt the blood drain from her face. She remembered back, years ago, her father pushing a file across the table at her and her siblings. Catherine had picked it up and thumbed through it with a bored look on her face.
"S.T.A.R.S. survived," she had said haughtily. "What does it matter if they survived the mansion? It was meant as a test, and it worked as one. It means that your creations aren't strong enough, Father. Let them survive, Father. Who will believe them? Besides, they'll never be able to touch us."
Cassandra had looked through the file, bored and frustrated at having her day interrupted by this meeting. Jill Valentine, a pretty woman with a heart shaped face. Chris Redfield, with a broad jaw and still eyes. Pixie featured Rebecca Chambers. She had scanned them all once and tossed the file over to her brother.
And now Chris Redfield was walking up behind her, and he too was armed. All dignity fell to the way side.
"No," she sobbed. "No no no no no no. You don't want me. You want Catherine, you want Damien, you want Father. I never wanted to." Tears ran down her pale face, and something that she prayed was sweat down one thigh. Would they kill her? Would they torture her for her father's secrets? Did they know what she had done? Would they care why she had done it? She backed away from Claire into Chris, and he seized her thin forearm with one massive hand.
"Dr. Spencer," he said in a voice thick with tension.
"I – I – I didn't do anything," she stuttered in a panicky tone. "Please. Please. I can tell yo"
Before she could finish, there was a sharp pain in her jaw, and she cried out. He had hit her. All fear disappeared and was replaced with a sharp fury.
"Coward," he growled. "Now listen. My sister and me are going to take you with us. You aren't going to struggle, and you'll be quiet. Keep in mind that we have been looking for someone like you for years now, so we're not going to kill you – but my friends have died because of your mansion, and your viruses, so I don't have much patience for you."
"I'll kill you," she shrieked. "You can't touch royal blood, I'll kill you. Don't touch me! Let me go." All thoughts of her apartment and new life were gone – all she could think about was her father's research, of Umbrella's once great strength, and of how she wanted nothing more than revenge for that one punch. "Get away from me now, I'll kill you both."
Something soft and noxious went over her face, and the world went black.