The music was thundering, the lyrics were nearly impossible to decipher, every beat caused a pounding in the chest and a ring in the ear. The environment was not anything new, he'd been in a place just like it dozens of times in the past; only this time he was in the place to work, not for pleasure. Although, he was taking it as both; how often does a job assignment require attending a club with... exotic dancers? The lights were dim, flashes of light beamed from the main stage, a beautiful series of red and green lights danced on the club's black carpeted floor. Dancing from the floor, the lights bounced off of the junkies at individual tables or standing dumbfounded, to the average Joe either sitting alone or with a group of buddies, all the way to 'higher men' sitting in booths. Either men with a lot of money, to frustrated husbands, or even gangsters, the mob. More importantly however, Bio-Terrorists. They looked like regulars at a strip club, regulars with money, but these men carried themselves differently from the average law breaker. Their security had security, and they were not as loose and easy going as some of the other obvious mavericks in the club.
It was a dangerous position to be in: stuck right in the middle of mobsters, low level street thugs, and the new terrorists of the 21st century. He could care less however, he sat at the bar unruffled. This was the lifestyle he'd signed up with since he entered the United States Air Force well over a decade prior. He'd gone through dozens of situations before, some better than the current predicament, and others worse. Yet, Chris Redfield seemed to find himself doing just fine in such situations, this time would be no different. After all he was not alone in this operation; Chris volunteered for this particular case which had him assigned to a group looking to apprehend the small group of confirmed Bio-Terrorists. There were twelve others working with Chris on this case, not to mention he and his team would be getting assistance from the Los Angeles Police Department, a tactical unit which should have arrived approximately seven minutes prior. Chris was standing at the bar area, taking in a drink and facing the wall of liquor and a large mirror. At this angle he could see the entire club and his targets without having to constantly look over his shoulder. The music began to die down as the dancer on stage gave a charming bow of gratitude to the clapping group of men in the building. She walked off the stage briskly and the music level stayed at a low.
"Do you mind?" asked a woman, Chris' eyes turned away from the mirror and met with hazel eyes looking back at him. A blond haired woman in her mid twenties gave Chris a warm smile and gestured if she could stand beside him to order a drink. Chris gave her a nod and smiled back, taking a sip of his beer. She stepped inward and motioned for the bartender, Chris gave a quick look at her body...just to size her up. The blond wore tight black jeans, black Chelsea boots with a small heel, she wore a black jacket over a maroon vest. Her hair reached down just passed her collar bone, nothing fancy done, just straight hair which wasn't exactly too bright of blond.
"Heineken please," said the woman,
"Interesting," started Chris,
"What's that?"
"I don't see too many women order that."
"It's bold and complex, I like it."
"You sure though, it's about eight bucks here."
"I don't mind the price, it's worth it for the quality. I'm sure you can agree, with your..." she looked at the beer in his hand, it was a simple tall glass, she studied it for a second, then her eyes met his, "Stella." Chris nodded, obviously impressed. The barman came over with the Heineken in hand, set it down on the counter top and opened it, with his hands he held up eight fingers. She motioned to pay, Chris waved her off and asked to to put it on his tab, "I'll pay the lady's drink."
"Thanks, but the lady can pay her own."
"Listen, I'm not exactly trying to pick up on you here. I can show some respect for a woman who enjoys a Heineken . You've got good taste."
"I should think so, I did sit beside you after all." she gave him another smile, another smile which was almost infectious. She turned to the barman and gave him a nod.
"Thanks for the drink, it's not often you go to a strip club and have the famous Chris Redfield buy you a round." she took a sip of the Heineken as Chris turned his head to her slowly, puzzled at first, then he nodded his head, "I see, you're Alex Trevor, the detective with the LAPD am I right?"
"Detective Alexandria Trevor, yes." Chris rose his glass as if to toast, then took a drink and glanced at his wrist watch, "You're nearly ten minutes late."
"I'm sorry, the LAPD can't have a team assembled in twelve minutes like you boys at the BSAA. Although, you used to be with a police task force, you know how it can be."
Both took a drink and then continued onward, all fronts out the window, it was now time for business. The Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, the organization Chris Redfield had found himself working with for almost ten years, was tipped off to the group of Bio-Terrorists which were at the club. Chris and his partner had been watching them for a few days, making sure they were who the anonymous individual said they were. "Who am I looking for?" asked Alex as she placed her back to the counter and leaned on it casually, Chris looked up to the mirror, his eyes went immediately to their target, "His name is Richard Esquivel, he's the small sack of shit sitting in front of the stage wearing the aviators. He's been wanted by Interpol for years now, and just recently he's been making some buys on the black market for information about the T-Virus—which has put him on our radar."
"T-Virus? That's the thing that caused the viral outbreak in Raccoon City back in '98 right?" she asked giving him a glance, Chris gave a nod, already thinking back to other cases which sprouted carriers of the virus, and what those carriers were capable of. He stifled the thoughts with another gulp of the beer and continued, "In January, Esquivel was rumored to be within the Eastern Slav Republic—though what he was actually doing there has not been confirmed. We can assume he wasn't taking a vacation in a nation undergoing a civil war. Earlier this month there've been rumors of 'monsters' in the war. The nation's government is not confirming or denying these claims, and they've denied assistance offered by the BSAA. If the rumors are true about the so-called monsters, then it's very likely that Esquivel may have sold Bio-Organic Weapons to the rebels in the Eastern Slav Republic, or purchased from them. This is why we are here: to apprehend Richard Esquivel and press him for information."
"I see. Well, I've got over a dozen men outside that have already sealed off this area, and I understand you have a unit here too, am I right?"
"My SOU is divided right now, I have six men at the rear of this building, and the other five in pursuit of The Seller."
"The Seller?"
"We were tipped off that this would strictly be a drop off. From what we were told, Esquivel bought something off the black market, something pertaining to the T-Virus. There was a man here a few moments ago in a black suit and red tie, he was only here for a moment. He left a metallic briefcase at the table Esquivel is at, then he walked away."
"Why didn't you guys take him down then?"
"Esquivel wasn't here yet, in fact they never actually met. We couldn't take the man without possibly causing a scene which would have spooked off Esquivel if he was coming. My Special Operations Unit is split, half covering the rear of the building, and the other following the man in the suit, seeing where he goes, and who he reports to. We're looking for the person pulling the strings behind the T-Virus information—which could be anyone from an ex-Umbrella employee, or someone looking to continue research on the virus. Last I read, it seems the man with the red tie is heading to the Union Station in downtown LA."
Alex Trevor gave a few nods and took another sip, so far it seemed everything was going according to plan, the only way a screw up could occur would be with them, the here and now. "I've got ten men already in this place, they walked in before me, and the last guy just walked in the door. We're ready when you are Agent Redfield." she said, setting her drink on the table. Chris looked down at the beer in his hand, "Almost, we're just waiting on the signal." with that, he lifted his glass, and gulped down every drop, Alex was curious, "What signal? Aside from that, you mentioned a partner. Not only that, I was told you would have the partner here with you? Where are they?"
"That's what I mean, I'm waiting for..." Chris trailed off as the music began to rise again, again the music was ear-splitting, and chest thrusting. Chris turned and joined in on the lean with Alex, "Detective, my partner. Enter stage left: Jill Valentine."
Just then as the lyrics began stepped out, vigorously, wearing a light blue mini skirt. The top was a light blue police officer uniform, complete with a badge, handcuffs, a nightstick, and a pistol. Jill Valentine was simply electrifying in her movements as she made her way to the center of the stage, she commanded the attention of every patron in the club as she ripped off her top and tossed it to a table of three men on her left. Alex's attention went to Chris, and she caught something in his eye which she did not keep to herself, "Is there a look of concern there Agent Redfield?" she asked, reaching back and pulling her beer in front of her, Chris looked onward at Jill for a moment, then seemed to snap back into reality, stern, "Agent Valentine was just recently cleared for active duty following our last mission together in Africa. In my opinion, she's still not ready for duty."
"Is that it? Or do you like approve of her exposing herself like this?"
"She's exposing herself to dangerous men, the terrorists in front of her are cruel bastards, sadists who've tortured people—innocent men, women, and children. So yeah, I'm not exactly thrilled about this part of the assignment."
"Hmph, that's what you're brain says anyway." Alex took another drink of her beer, finished it, and set it down behind herself. Jill Valentine was now moving closer to Esquivel, her hands moved across her own body with ease and elegance, movements like this stunned Esquivel, who rose from his seat and moved closer to the stage, his men following. Jill motioned for the pistol in the holster, Esquivel's men stepped forward, but an exuberant Esquivel waved them off as he moved closer to Jill. Chris reached over into a holster he had hiding beneath his jacket and removed his 9mm, Alex did the same, and with a few brief nods to several of her men already in the crowd, they did the same. They were ready, Jill grasped her weapon as she leaned inward to her target, Esquivel leaned inward as well. This was it, the moment had come when they had to hope everything went according to plan.
Of course, that would have been too easy. Just before Jill Valentine could remove her weapon there was an explosion of gas which had come from the ceiling, the music continued to play as the men in the audience began to panic. A blinding smoke filled the room quickly, the beams of light were only able to cut through bits of the smoke. In the excitement, Chris and the team moved inward, not sure who was who and what was happening. A fight broke out somewhere on the left of the stage, then on the right, soon the entire club found themselves in a brawl. Chris put his weapon away and joined the fray, looking for Esquivel or one of his men. It was better it became a physical fight rather than one involving guns. Chris jumped over a table and tackled down one of the guards he had seen Esquivel with. Both men on the floor, another guard quickly emerged from the smoke and slammed his foot down, nearly missing Chris' face. The guard rose his leg again and slammed downward, Chris caught his boot, and using all his might, pushed the guard backward into another brawl between an undercover officer and some junkie. Yet before Chris could relish the small victory, the man he had tackled had found himself on his feet, reached down and pulled Chris up, landing a few hard hitting jabs into Chris' left ribs.
Even through the pain, Chris was wondering what had happened to Esquivel, and more importantly, what had happened to Jill Valentine. It was possible Jill was able to get back stage when the smoke had come about, or maybe Esquivel had grabbed her in the confusion, either scared or realizing she was after him. Worse, perhaps Jill had been injured. Before another thought could cross Chris' mind, he found himself choked and had his head slammed down onto a table. The club was filling with smoke, the music was still playing as men could be heard cursing at one another, screaming in pain, or screaming out in frustration. The guard with his hands around Chris' throat smiled wide, just before a glass shattered against his head, knocking him to the floor. Chris found himself gasping for air within the smoke, which was starting to hurt his lungs. Alex Trevor knelt beside him, "Agent Redfield, Jill and the target have vanished!"
Unknown to both Chris and Alex, Jill Valentine was in pursuit of her target and getting closer to him as he gasped for air. They were running through the back alley, an area which should have been secured by the BSAA, yet the agents were nowhere in sight. It made no difference at the moment, even in heels, Jill Valentine was catching up with her target, she'd have him down on the floor begging for her not to hurt him in no time at all. Esquivel shot a look back at her, then threw himself around a corner. Behind herself, Jill could hear the voice of Chris Redfield calling to her, it seemed he realized the back exit was open wide and was the only means of escape from that smoke trap. Jill didn't stop, there was no time, Esquivel was just around the corner. Jill allowed herself to slow for a fraction of a second as she made the turn, then she stopped in her tracks, stopped suddenly, so suddenly her body almost fell forward from the momentum. Standing there in front of her, a figure in a long hooded cloak, beneath the cloak were bright and large red eyes, a large formation, like a beak, stuck out from just under the red eyes. Jill Valentine was face-to-face with herself. Impossible, she was face-to-face with someone who had donned the cloak and mask she had once worn. It only took a second to register the image before Jill found herself kicked in the stomach and thrown back out into the main alleyway. Chris' voice was loud as he shouted her name, possibly only seeing her fly backward from the turn. Jill had slammed into a garbage dumpster which bent inward as she hit it. Her assailant fled deeper into the alleyway, Chris slid and made it beside her, he hastily questioned her on if she was alright, "No! Don't stop—I'm fine! Stop him!" she shouted, tossing his arm off of her.
Chris gave her only a second glance, then continued down the alleyway after Esquivel, not sure what the Hell had happened to his partner. Alex Trevor had made it out to the alleyway and began to make her way to Jill as Chris had run off in the direction of Jill's attacker.
Around a corner, Chris saw Esquivel hopping into the back of a windowless white van, he pulled out his 9mm and took aim. Just a split second before he could fire his weapon he found his hands kicked from around the corner. His weapon fired and a man's scream was heard just as the doors slammed shut and the van began to peel out. Chris moved to take aim at his attacker but only saw a leg and boot come his way, he motioned to block and found his weapon kicked clean from his hand. Before a reaction could be made, with the other leg, the attacker kicked Chris hard in the upper chest, sending him backward onto the wet and hard pavement. It was all happening so fast, before Chris knew it, he saw his attacker in the air, coming down at him with their boots aimed at his head. He tossed himself to the side and rolled up to his feet, desperately trying to gain balance in the excitement.
The person, or thing attacking him was fast, faster than his eyes could keep up with. It darted back and forth and then suddenly came at Chris, full speed. It was only in this split second Chris saw his attacker, his attacker dressed exactly as Jill had been a while back while under control of an enemy. Before Chris could react, the assailant jumped just barely over his head in a movement which could be seen as beautiful, if it wasn't done to inflict damage. The assailant's hands latched onto Chris' neck in mid-air, and just before they landed, they used their own momentum of the jump to hurl Chris over their own head, clean across several feet. Chris landed hard onto the pavement, his only type of cushion was a puddle of water he had landed in. Just then Jill Valentine had made it to the scene of the attack and noticed her double, seemingly standing alone there in the open alley. Jill rose her weapon and fired several shots. Not a single bullet hit the attacker, the double had moved too fast, dodged every bullet with beautiful precision. Jill fired several more, each was dodged, and just as she fired the last round, she realized the double had been standing in front of Chris, purposely moving and dodging so that Jill would score an actual bullet. As her double dodged, Chris had gotten to his knees and for a split second saw the assailant jump above him. The bullet connected not with the attacker, but with Chris Redfield. Jill screamed out in horror as she had only seen blood shoot out from Chris' left temple. He collapsed on the floor, face first. Jill ran toward him, throwing her weapon aside. The assailant lunged over Chris' collapsed body, and used a type of flying kick which knocked Jill Valentine backward. As Jill landed hard on her back, the double landed perfectly on her feet before then leaping atop a dumpster, an air conditioner, and then onto a rooftop. Jill's eyes, watery with pain and emotional trauma, watched as the assailant gave only one glance before leaping elsewhere. Though, the assailant didn't matter, the case didn't matter. Jill dragged herself over to her partner, lying in a small puddle of his own blood. She positioned herself to sit, she placed Chris' head on her lap, blood was running down her leg as she held onto him close, crying. It was her fault, what had she done? The target got away, the assailant got away, and she had just shot her own partner. Nothing else mattered.