One Last Run
-First-
Disclaimer: Leon Kennedy, Ada Wong, Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, and Resident Evil are not mine; they belong to Capcom.
Dedicated to: Thenicochan, aka Nico. This is all your fault.
-x-
"Any news on that epidemic?" A woman sat on the arm of a leather easy chair and crossed one leg over the other.
"What epidemic?" a gruff voice replied, his face illuminated by the computer screen situated in front of him. It was the only light source in the darkened room, as the blinds were closed and the curtains pulled tightly over them.
"You know... The one caused by a certain...vial you dropped around a week ago."
"Vial?" Either he wasn't a good conversationalist or he was too focused on his work to focus on idle chit-chat. "What vial?"
The woman sighed. "The one I gave you from the trip you sent me on last year." What other vials would she have handed him in order to confuse him so?
However, she knew he knew, and she could tell her boss could care less about an epidemic - it happened before, in 1996, and it was nothing new.
"Anyway, the nearby towns and cities are complaining of some sort of...disease running through the place, and they have no way of treating it because they don't know what it is."
Her boss shrugged, indifferent. "If you know that much about it, it seems that you don't need any news on it." His fingers danced across the keys on the keyboard as he updated yet another database.
"I'd just like to know if they're pointing fingers at us." She sounded so calm in a situation where so many lives were at risk. Had working for this man really desensitised her that much? Maybe she did need that vacation...
"Who would be pointing fingers at us? There are chemical plants nearby they can blame, not us."
"And if they do blame us?" She was really pressing the issue.
"Then we blame the chemical plants nearby," he replied, as if it were such an obvious answer. "Ada, I thought you were...above asking such stupid questions." He smirked as he continued his work, hoping he hit a nerve.
She scoffed and slid gracefully from the chair arm; she crossed the room and opened the door, lingering there. Well what do you know? He did hit a nerve - a large one, judging from her attitude.
"It's stupid of me to think of my job, then, Albert?" She closed the door a little so it wasn't open all the way. "I just want to know if the government is getting involved, so I know what to tell the others."
Albert made a noise that sounded like a cross between a chuckle and a snort. Ada had never heard such a queer sound from someone usually so stoic before.
"You're just hoping the government gets involved so you can see what's-his-face again, not because you give a damn about us."
She opened the door once again and made to step out.
"Maybe I am hoping to see him again. It wouldn't be the first time."
Albert sat back in his computer chair, his eyes scanning a line of text on the screen.
"When were you going to tell me one of our 'pets' escaped?" He didn't sound panicked, but a hint of annoyance was threaded through his voice.
Ada shrugged. "I figured you'd already received the memo from one of our lab techs, so I didn't feel the need to tell you anything."
"Maybe this is a good thing." He sounded pleased now, the annoyance gone. He grinned in satisfaction as a plan formed in his head, his fingers once again pressing a sequence of keys.
"How is a B.O.W. escaping a good thing?"
Oh, she should have known by now that he didn't give a damn if a B.O.W. escaped. It was a great opportunity, he always said. A great opportunity for the US government to sniff around in their business whilst hundreds of people died. All for the sake of research and science.
"Combat data, my dear Ada," he replied. "Too bad S.T.A.R.S. isn't around anymore - I would have loved to have seen this thing rip Christopher Redfield limb from precious limb."
Ada couldn't see her boss's expression due to his back facing her, but she knew he was probably wearing a grin of sick satisfaction at such a fantasy. Whatever this "Christopher Redfield" did, it must have been something bad.
It was then that she left the room. She had other business to take care of, and Albert Wesker's insanity was beginning to creep her out, if just a little. Light filtered into the room for a split second before she closed the door behind her.
-x-
It's three in the fucking morning, who the hell would be calling at this hour?
It was barely light out as he fumbled on his bedside table for the obnoxiously loud cell phone, only to remember that it was in his pant's pocket. Nearly falling off the bed, he reached for his jeans on the floor, shoved his hand in the pocket, and glared at the cellular device, his vision still clouded over in a half-asleep stage. He flipped the cover open and put it to his ear, his hand rubbing his face as he sat upright.
"This had better be something important," he barked into the phone. "I was sleeping and all."
"Well sor-ree, Leon, but duty can sometimes call at the strangest hours." The voice sounded too optimistic for it to be three in the morning.
"What the hell are you doing, calling me? I don't even work with you."
There was a laugh on the other end, and Leon pulled the phone away from his ear to glare at it again.
"That was yesterday, this is today."
"That's lovely an' all," Leon replied, exaggerating his yawn just a little, "but I have to get up in two hours, so if you value your life, you'll shut the fuck up and let me sleep."
"Nu-uh, Leon. Get your ass to the nearest airport - you're picking me up. I'll tell you everything else there, providing it's not too crowded."
Leon was about to protest when the voice on the other end added, "And wear something nice - I haven't seen you since when, '95? Reunion bullshit and all that."
Click.
Leon flipped the phone closed and threw it back onto his pants, shaking his head the whole while.
"Why'd I get stuck with this crap..." He sighed and got out of bed. Too late to go back to sleep now, he figured, and rummaged around his room trying to find clean clothes from the hamper.
"At least let me do my stupid laundry..."
-x-
For it only being three thirty in the morning, the airport was still as busy as rush hour traffic heading out of Jersey and into Manhattan. Leon looked at his watch impatiently as he sat in one of those uncomfortable airport seats, all the while wondering when the hell his new colleague was going to waltz off the tarmac and into the place.
"Figures he arrives at the busiest airport in New York, at the strangest time of the day, and expects me to be all sunshine and unicorns." The sun wasn't even up at such an hour, but Leon didn't realise he made a pun of sorts. He banged his head against the back of the chair a few times, wondering if he could knock himself out and sleep for a few minutes, maybe.
After dozing off a few times (not due to his now throbbing head), and resisting a group of flirting college girls, the lone plane from Paris finally arrived - on schedule, according to the arrivals board - and with it two hundred or so passengers who were probably kissing the ground. He looked at his watch again and shifted in his seat for the hundredth or so time in the span of five minutes. If it was one thing Leon Kennedy hated, it was waiting half an hour for something anti-climatic to happen. And planes arriving was about as anti-climatic as paint finally drying on a wall.
"Well you hardly changed."
Leon jerked awake and saw a man with five o'clock shadow, a camouflaged vest, and tanned shirt hovering over him, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, with the widest grin ever plastered on his face.
"Chris, do you have any idea--"
"Yes," Chris replied before Leon could finish his sentence. He knew exactly what Leon was going to say. "I tried calling Jilly, but she wasn't picking up her phone, I have no idea where my sister is, and Barry's out of town, probably with his family."
"And I was sleeping," Leon corrected. "Soundly, I might add."
"But you were available," Chris reasoned. "And...I hope you didn't take a taxi here."
Leon sat up and cracked his back, relieving some muscle tension from sitting in such an uncomfortable position.
"Motorcycle," Leon replied. "Hope you don't have more'n that to haul with you." He gestured to the duffel bag.
Chris waved dismissively. "Yeah, like I'd burden myself with so much crap. Anyway, we should go somewhere more private - classified info and all that other stuff. Wasn't expecting so many people being here."
Leon stood and led Chris out of the bustling airport, wincing as they passed another pack of school-aged girls on spring break, catching the girls' attention and having them squeal immediately.
"Ah, to be seventeen again," Chris replied, walking out into the somewhat clean air New York City offered. The streetlamps, combined with the headlights of the forever-moving traffifc, provided more light than the sun ever could.
"Sometimes I swear you haven't grown up yet."
Chris pretended to be offended as he hopped onto Leon's motorcycle after him, shifting the duffel bag so that it was behind them more.
"You do know there's a helmet law, right?" Chris asked as the motor roared to life. Leon snorted.
"'n case you haven't noticed, we're both over the age of seventeen."
"Oh great," Chris remarked, "if we get into an accident, my brain guts'll spill out all over the pavement, all 'cause you're too badass to have any helmets."
Leon shook his head once again and they sped off into the horizon.
After a few minutes, Chris regretted stepping foot on Leon's motorcycle.
"Leeeeeooon! You're not supposed to weave in and out of traffic!" Chris yelled over the noise of the fast-moving traffic, his arms wrapped around Leon's waist for dear life. "And you're probably way over the speed limit!"
Chris sighed in relief when they were forced to stop at a red light; that was short lived, however, and yelped when Leon revved the engine and then sped off, going twenty miles over the posted speed limit of thirty five.
"I think you should've been in motorcross. You would've been great at it. WATCH OUT FOR THAT OLD LADY!"
Indeed there was an older woman taking her sweet time crossing the street. Leon wasn't appreciating Chris being a backseat-driver.
"I see her, Chris, just shut up and let me drive us home before I throw you off."
Chris said nothing more, and was relieved when the apartment complex was in view fifteen minutes later.
-x-
Author's Notes: Haha, Leon's kinda acting like an ass to Chris, but you'd be pissed off if you were sleeping so good and then you get a phone call at three in the morning from your best friend asking to be picked up at an airport. They're really best friends, which you'll see later on.
Chapter two soon!
