The squeal of the subway breaks echoed through the vast and empty hallways of the Raccoon City underground. Chris Redfield was already late for his new assignment as an officer in the Raccoon City Police Department's special unit. Barely older than twenty-three, Chris had already managed an impressive career along with a reputation among many prominent officers. By twenty, he had already accomplished far more than many of his older friends and fellow soldiers had accomplished. His attitude had almost lost him everything, and right now, it was threatening his ability to make it to the department at all.
"Come on, goddamn stupid thing…" he was getting frustrated that his automated subway pass wasn't scanning properly.
"Sir, let me check your card." The subway wasn't busy, and the attendant had been watching his every move.
"No." Chris snapped. "I know how to work a card reader." With a final hard swipe, the machine finally beeped and allowed him to pass though. His large duffle bag presented a bit of a challenge, but he tugged it hard, and it swung forwards, making him stumble. He ran down the hallway and skipped steps down the escalator. Emerging on the nearly empty platform, he looked left then right, and finally up at the digital screen reading out train times. It informed him the next subway was not due for another eight minutes. He sighed to himself, the breeze from the tunnels ruffling his messy brown hair.
Chris was dressed in civilian clothing, his professional gear all shoved sloppily into the green duffle bag, clad in dark green cargo pants and a grey t-shirt that read USAF in black letters across the front. Moving his way down the platform and standing a few feet back from the red line, he dropped his bag by his boots. Combat boots had become the only type of footwear in his wardrobe, and he had just stopped caring about his hair after he had been discharged from the Air Force. It was messy and dark, sticking up in assorted directions and pressed flat against his head at the back from his pillow. Just as he began wondering how long these eight minutes would take to pass, a breeze passed through the tunnel as a train on the opposite side moved into the station, bringing with it the distinct smell of an expensive men's cologne.
Chris had been staring down at the tracks, lost in thoughts of his days in the Air Force, and the phone conversation he had had earlier that week. The smell roused him from his thoughts, but he didn't immediately look up to find its source. Aside from the dull rumblings of the subway cars far away, and the occasional overhead voice, Chris had not heard anyone else arrive on the platform. His brow creased, and he moved his eyes up from the tracks, to follow the lines of the floor tiles along the ground to his right. They stopped when they landed on a pair of shiny, black business shoes about ten feet away from him. The brief question of why this man was standing so close to him when the whole platform was open came and left as quickly as the thought itself had formed.
Chris moved his eyes from the shoes to the black slacks, allowing his eyes to climb up the legs and torso of their owner until he reached the man's face. The upper attire was equally lacking in colour, and equally well put together. A black dress shirt, top button undone, was tucked loosely into the slacks and belt, covered by a plain, black suit jacket. He wore no tie, and held a briefcase in hand. Chris glanced at the man's face out of the corner of his eye, and seeing that the stranger was staring down the tunnel to his right, Chris turned his head more towards him to study his face.
The man was older than Chris, though not by much, as far as he could tell. His hair was a golden blonde, seeming to have a shimmer about it, despite the unflattering fluorescence of the underground tunnel. It was slicked back, and Chris could see traces of darker blonde and possibly light browns closer to his skull. The way his head was turned gave Chris a perfect outline of his features; sharp cheek bones, a well-defined jaw, and a thin mouth, held in a serious line. He stood several inches taller than Chris, and looked to be almost the same build as him. A breeze stirred again in the tunnel, and a screech of breaks let Chris know that the train was about to pull into the station, but Chris barely seemed to notice. He was almost entranced with this man; perhaps the first man Chris was ever willing to admit he found attractive.
Almost as if he had voiced his thoughts, the man turned his head in one, fluid motion, and his eyes met Chris's. They were a cold, silvery blue, and Chris held the glance with his own dark blue eyes a moment longer, before looking down at his feet. Bending slightly, he picked his duffle bag up, forcing himself to not turn and look at the man again. The side of his head was tingly, and Chris had the slightest feeling that he was being studied now. Doing his best to keep his casual stance, he pretended to read a sign on the wall across from him on the opposite platform. The train pulled up and Chris stepped forward, allowing other passengers off. He watched the man's reflection in the glass, and saw him step into the car before Chris entered his own. He sat, facing the next car, and watched the man for his entire trip. After several more stops, he lost sight of the man amongst mass of people now crowding the train.
Chris felt the sensation of being stared at three more times during his trip into Raccoon City.