Chapter One-Old Habits Never Cease (Chris' P.O.V)

I stared at the white washed walls, taking note of the peeling paint and rusted air vents. As Jill sat in front of me her eyes distant and not speaking a word. Ever since Africa… she had never been the same. At some point in time she stopped eating, drinking and sometimes even ceased sleeping. It was as if she had gone into a shut down mode, waiting for a reset button to erase everything from her mind.

I looked down into my hands and fingered her old STARS beret with its frayed edges and ash burned holes. I brought it up to the table top and slid the beret underneath her cuffed wrists and made her fingers wrap around it. The doctors had swore up and down that they saw her try to kill herself, but I wouldn't allow myself to believe them. Jill was my closest friend known to the human race; she had been through everything with me aside from Sheva, Josh, Claire and Leon. They have experienced similar horrors if not the exact same.
"Jill… they will pay for what they have done to you. I'm sorry I couldn't find you sooner, maybe then you wouldn't be stuck in this hell hole," I murmured.

Finally I got up and kissed Jill's crown, walking away towards the exit. Little did I know that Jill's fingers twitched around the old STARS beret. I reached the outside world to be greeted by the wind rustling the skirts of trees making the leaves fluster around their bases; looking down the steps of the hospital I saw Claire leaning against her 1975 Gran Torino. The metallic purple paint glistening under the faint rays of the sun as it barely broke through the clouds.
Claire's auburn hair glistened and her ice blue eyes sparkled with life, her pale skin covered up with her causal jeans and sweater. From afar and up close, no one could tell that she had experienced the horrors of Raccoon City. I'm just glad that Leon was there.
She looked up from the ground and frowned immediately as my gaze caught hers, making my eyebrows draw together.
"What's wrong, Claire?"
Claire sighed as she leaned off of her car and pulled a portfolio folder out from behind her back that had the BSAA emblem stamped with red ink on it's face.
"Your next assignment."


Leaving behind my sister, for the millionth time, was as hard as all the other times. At first I wasn't even going to accept this assignment; Claire had reassured me that Leon was on vacation and would be close by at all times.

The Mediterranean air swept through my freshly cut hair and grazed against my five o'clock shadow. I had gotten my hair cut but didn't bother with my stubble. The sunlight bounced off my aviators, as the speed boat glided over the water. I glanced back down at the office portfolio, protruding from my black back-pack. I cautiously made my way over to my bag, careful to not fall over. I plopped down beside my bag and pulled out the folder; I opened it and began reading the personal file that I had looked out at least five times before.

NAME: LUCIANA MARIA SANCHEZ
B.O.D: AUGUST 30, 1982 AGE: 28

HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: 169.5

PHOTO SLOT: SHY FROM CAMERAS

OCCUPATION:B.S.A.A AGENT, EUROPEAN BRANCH-ITALY

SURVIVING RELATIVES: MIGUEL SANCEHZ AND AZURA SANCHEZ (FATHER'S BROTHER AND COUSIN)

HISTORY: BORN TO GABRIELLE AND ARABELLA SANCHEZ DURING, 1982, IN RACCOON CITY. BOTH PARENTS WERE TOP UMBRELLA SCIENTISTS. BOTH PERISHED IN RACCOON CITY; LUCIANA SANCHEZ, A TEENAGER, WAS A RARE SURVIVOR THAT HAD REMAINED UNRECORDED FROM THE LIST OF OTHER SURVIVORS OF THE HORRIFIC INNCIDENT.

I gazed at the clear pocket protector where the photo should have been and smirked to myself as the boat came to a stop at the dock. I jammed the portfolio into my bag, and swung it over my left shoulder. I walked to the edge of the boat and at the docks ladder, as I climbed out onto the wooden platform.

"Thanks," I told the boat's captain, as I waved to him while walking away.

I smiled as I pulled out my phone, pulling up the email that described the directions.

TURN AROUND =)

I quirked my eyebrow at the smiley and shrugged, as a smile tugged at my lips. I turned around to find a woman walking towards me.

She wore a tight grey and white muscle t-shirt, similar to my green one, that bore the BSAA emblem on her right shoulder. Her black and white Chuck Taylor's hitting the wooden planks with sure-graceful steps. Her long legs leading up to her black, charcoal-grey camouflage shorts that barely passed her fingertips. She had beautifully tanned skin and short, soft-black hair that was evenly cut past her jaw line. But bangs swept to the right, hiding her silver-lensed aviators.

"Are you Chris Redfield," the woman asked, her voice sweet and silky.

I cleared my throat as I replied calmly, "Yes, you must be Luciana Sanchez?"

She flashed me a pearly white smile, "Yes, I am Luciana Sanchez. Welcome to Venice, Italy."

Luciana held out her hand and I shook it gently.

"Thank you. Only good thing about this job is being able to take down scumbags like Wesker and saving millions of lives in the process. Also to do some sight seeing while on the job," I joked, following with my hearty chuckle.

Luciana broke the handshake and laughed, "Agreed."

I smiled then asked, "So where to?"

Luciana smiled sincerely, "Headquarters. Tomorrow I will take you to do some sight seeing, yes?"

I nodded as she reached up and removed her sun glasses. Revealing fine black eyeliner gracing both her top and bottom lid. Her long black eyelashes brushing the bottom half of her eyebrows. Luciana had deep-dark brown eyes that illuminated bronze flecks, when the sun illuminated them from a angle.

I knew from then on that attachment wasn't an option because we would both be in trouble out on the field if that happened.