Lightning blasted an astonishing bright light throughout the night sky as the thunder rumbled deeply behind, spreading like a tidal wave throughout the Spencer Estate. It was much like it's replica in Raccoon only it, unlike the other, was still intact.
But not for long.
He held his breath as he took a dive for his next victim, grabbing ahold of the bodyguard's neck he put subtle pressure. The fear in the man's dying eyes alerted as he looked upon the face of his attacker. He didn't see it coming, nor had he ever seen anyone with such strength. He tried to struggle as the fair haired man with dark shaded sunglasses gazed upon his face, a smile forming playfully on his lips as the chill of death swarmed over the bodyguard's body. With a non-effortless squeeze the man's neck cracked, breaking into a million pieces under Albert Wesker's hands, the ripping tear sending pure thrill down his spine as he killed the last of his effortless prey.
Without any remorse or sadness for the man he had just killed Wesker continued his way down the now empty luxuriously decorated corridor. Silk black curtains laced the windows which aligned the left wall, one right after the other, the only thing between them was vintage black metal sconce lights, with faux pale light protruding from them. White marble columns were placed randomly to add elegance to the look, much like the Arklay Mountains mansion, and a, surely what was a thousand dollar, rug was placed neatly beneath his feet, centered in the narrow area. He would give Spencer credit, the man did have taste.
In 1996 Wesker was Captain of S.T.A.R.S the RPD Alpha Team, acting as a double agent for Umbrella. He did it to figure out more about Umbrella and the latest on going experiments that his ears, and eyes had been excluded from. He knew Ozwell Spencer was hiding a lot more from him than just data, but what he didn't know. With every passing day Wesker found less and less to go on making his impatience grow stronger; making today the most important day in all of Wesker's existence.
Wesker had never been shown any kindness as a child. His parent's both scientist allowed him to be raised into an umbrella lifestyle, ergo giving Wesker his all too cunning personality. Umbrella was all he knew along with being shown anger, impatience, and a hunger for undying power that had driven him to the break of insanity. Wesker had never had a Christmas, or even a Birthday at that, but at this very moment he felt like a child who had just received the greatest and most glorious gift of them all. If all went well he would send a bonus check to Agent Ada Wong for the information on the whereabouts's of Spencer's location. Although Ada had been known to double cross and add her own twist to her assignments Wesker was too anxious not to believe her, any lead was better than none. He would trust her, just this last time.
We'll see about that.
Silent lightning struck once again as Wesker found himself at the double cherry oak doors to Spencer's office. The excitement rising from the pit of his stomach as he pictured the look of sheer horror that would shine on the old man's face when he got a good glimpse at his intruder. Wesker chuckled deeply, his imaginative mind twirling wildly at how this would all turn out.
He placed his black gloved hands on the nobs, turning both as he wasted no time to make an appropriately disturbing introduction. He couldn't wait to hear the appealing pleas of the old man begging for his unworthy life.
The office was one of the biggest rooms in the estate, which Wesker had noted when he scoped out the duplicated floor plans beforehand. The walls were rich cherry oak wood the same as the double doors. Bookcases streamed all around the room full of books from the arched ceiling down to the marble white floors. From the floor led to a stage like uprising which had stairs leading to two large Victorian styled windows. His golden eyes scanned the room quickly, meeting his target who to his disappointment did not seem surprised nor interested in what had just happened, his body still as Wesker continued his way farther into the room.
Maybe he is asleep and a very heavy sleeper at that?
Sometimes even Wesker jumped at the humanly part of him that answered to his animalistic side. After taking the prototype virus he had lost his human senses. He never felt any intense emotion, which would get him physiologically booked into a crazy house as a psychopath. At first he could still here the whimpers of his conscious, trying to get him down and feel horrible guilt for what he had done to himself and others; now it was locked away tightly in the back of Wesker's thick skull. It was like his personality was split into two separate beings, and the virus was the alpha. But did Wesker truly mind? Power was all he desired after all, but even so…he was once human, correct?
The sun had finally shifted below the rocky European mountains, making the sky a starless and dull shade of navy blue. Jill Valentine and partner Chris Redfield sat side by side as the anticipated mission drew nearer with every sudden repeating round of the chopper blades drawing them closer to their destination.
Jill who was now thirty still looked just about the same as she did when she was a part of the S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team, she could think her father, Dick, for the excellent age defying genetics. The only difference was the length of her hair, which was lazily laying freely in straight brunette waves down her back.
Chris who was now thirty-two had lost all signs of boyishness that he had once wore sportingly. He had buffed up, not a lot just enough to suit his needs for the job. He always had a five o' clock shadow which he refused to shave. Not that Jill minded, she had always joked with him about being handsome, she even said once, while under the influence, that he had aged like "fine wine". Which gave Chris, who was completely sober at the time, a good laugh.
Both Chris and Jill were now a part and co-founders of the BSAA (Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance) North America Branch a non-governmental organization to combat the increasing numbers of B.O.W.s being sold on the black market worldwide. Working as SOA (Special Operations Agents) which is soldiers who perform specialist tasks, and are usually placed in partner scenarios. Over the years due to the success of the organization headquarters were stationed worldwide looking for soldiers who would soulfully dedicate their selves to the cause.
Chris and Jill shared a common look; it was the look of their doubts and sadness. No matter how good life was at the time being the memories of all the horrors from their pasts always came back to bite them in the ass with the what ifs, and undying question to the mystery they called their everyday lives. Yeah sure, the cause was more than great. Saving millions of people daily, fighting for those innocents who don't have a chance against the harsh coldness of what their surrounding world really is. But, was it worth throwing away your life so selflessly over? To not go through with all the plans they made for the future that actually made them happy? Jill hated how much she questioned the job more and more lately.
Jill of all people knew that this job was the right thing but would she have regrets later on down the road? Dying alone in a nursing home, no family, no husband, nothing but an empty stone-cold heart from the pain she consumed while working to save the world while some young nurse feeds, bathes, and wipes her ass. That was defiantly not what Jill had written in all her journals back when things were normal. Jill only noticed these thoughts occurring when she was around him, Chris Redfield who had been her better half for the last almost decade. Before she could easily shrug them off but after the events of Terragregia, thinking she had lost Chris forever, played tricks with her head. To this very day though Jill could still remember the faces of the two innocent souls that pushed her to become what she was today, Becky and Priscilla McGee. The young girls she befriended and spent several of her afternoons watching, the young girls who were one of the very first of a never ending cycle of deaths caused by the T-Virus.
Oh, how I could use your smiles during times like these.
Eight years after the events of Raccoon, here they sat, the surviving two out of a few ex-S.T.A.R.S members Chris Redfield, and Jill Valentine, alive and well. Jill only having her father (Who was now out of prison and living in her condo back in the States until he gets back on his feet) lived a pretty lonesome life until her father was released from prison, and Chris only having Claire (Who after being put through hell decided it best to stay out of the battlefield, now works with the Human Rights Organization of Terra Save) lived nearly a hundred miles away from her older brother. Needless to say Jill and Chris found company in each other even on their days off, and were more of a family then they cared to admit.
Chris's house was right down the block from Jill's condo complex, and when they had a hard investigation they would crash at each other's place, working all night and day until they got to the end of whatever it was. Hell, there was some nights Jill would wake up from a nightmare and drive to Chris's just so she could feel the comfort of his embrace wrap around her waist letting her know she was alive. Chris on the other hand didn't mind at all. He would always end up holding an extremely paranoid Valentine in his arms while they watched a goofy movie until she fell back asleep; never admitting that he could watch her slumbering state for hours at a time.
Chris much like Jill was in the same exact predicament. He too wanted to retire to a life of relaxation, not to have to worry if he and Jill, or whoever partner he was assigned at the time, would make it through whatever task at hand. To not feel like he was balancing life and death at the point of his gun would be a relief for once. Though leaving the BSAA meant leaving Jill and that was something that he could never do.
Was that selfish of him? He didn't think so, he knew deep down that he had done more in his life than millions could do in a year. He deserved it, and she deserved it but there was one thing holding him back the wall he put up eight years ago. The wall that pushed all thoughts of having a significant other and kids aside because this world was too far gone for that. To lose them and all the luxuries that came with it would be hell, and little did he know she felt the same.
Tonight though the shared look was full of hopefulness. Tonight they knew deep down that all their troubles and all the shit they have fought against for eight years would come to an end, and if that happened Chris who stood in the locker room pacing about looking at an older photo of him and Jill decided that he would tell her how he felt. Tonight would be the end of Umbrella, and all the haunting memories of Raccoon finally giving all the lost souls some justice.
A couple years ago the BSAA received intel as to the whereabouts of Umbrella's founder, Ozwell E. Spencer. Both Jill and Chris, with the insight of the mansion in Arklay Mountains, were ordered by the BSAA European headquarters to apprehend him. Both of course accepted the mission without second thought, if anyone was going to bring down Spencer it would be two survivors of the mansion incident, and if they were successful they were hopeful to find proof and uncover the horrors of what truly happened in Raccoon. Not only were they seeking justice but they also caught wind, thanks to their dear old acquaintance Trent; who had saved their asses on copious occasions, that Ozwell was the next target on Wesker's list, and if they were lucky Spencer would lead them straight to Wesker; knocking out two birds with one stone.
Chris looked over at Jill who was enjoying the last sight of the sun disappear beneath the horizon. He placed a fingerless gloved hand on her knee. She turned to look at him, her brown hair falling from her shoulders as her clear blue eyes met his dark hazel. He gave her a gentle smirk, "You'll see it tomorrow." He said knowing that there was nothing more Jill loved than looking up at the sun proving she survived another day, tomorrow hopefully she would gaze upon the first break of day.
She nodded and forced a smile on her lips, "I know."
"Landing in five!" Winston Crane, who was a trained pilot for the BSAA, shouted back at them as both hoped up with what little room they had and continued clothing themselves.
Jill through on her blue BSAA alpha jacket over her black tank top. Zipping it up she then placed her favorite Beretta, which Barry Burton had gotten her for her birthday six years ago, inside the rapid access panels (pockets inside the middle layer of the jacket which show no sign of anything placed within), and enough rounds of ammo for both guns to get her through a bioweapon war. She then placed a knife in each sleeve, which concealed the weapon at the wrist of the sleeve for easy access. Putting on her tactical belt she placed two grenades and a stun grenade, hoping she wouldn't need to use them; Jill always hated the sound of grenades and the burning smell that singed off the metal. Having everything intact she continued, placing her tactical shoulder holster on her back, putting her other handgun in the empty place of which it belonged. She through her long hair into a tight ponytail, running her fingers back as she placed a blue hat on her head, so her bangs wouldn't fall down while in action, and then slipped her ponytail through the back to secure it.
She then sat back down in her seat and watched as Chris jumped around mindlessly throwing on his tactical vest. She always got a kick out of him preparing for a mission, it was funny watching him go over every little detail and still yet be the one out of the two who forgot the most.
Chris placed ammo in every empty section of the tactical vest. His handgun was already placed in the holster that connected to both vest and belt. He scanned his brain over and over again, doing his mental checklist making sure everything was in place that is until he heard a tiny chuckle from behind him, he turned to look at her, "Got something you want to say, Valentine?"
She stood up grabbing a couple flash grenades, and one regular. Her Doc Martin's clicked on the tin of the helicopter floor. She made a motion with her hand telling him to turn around, he gave her a tiny crooked smile, as he did as she instructed, his brain clicking as he remembered what he forgot. She placed them all on the back of his vest, locking them all tightly into place. She stared at his broad shoulders and the back of his muscled arms trying to stick to the point on task, "Senile. Not exactly your best trait, Redfield."
He laughed deeply, and Jill patted his back alerting him that she was done. He turned around and looked down at his partner, he couldn't help but stare at her lips. He had wanted to kiss her soft lips passionately for so long and after tonight if she felt as he did, which of course she did, he knew it would happen. His breath quickened a bit as an unknown warmth spread throughout his chest. He touched her face instead, caressing it in a way that made her freeze with no-self-control. His eyes narrowing with care, "No matter what happens, Jill…"
She shook her head and pulled away, looking up at him apologetically. Jill was never the one to be sentimental before a mission, it clouded her judgment which would make her mind focus on everything but the task on hand, "No, Chris. We will survive this, we've gone this long and tonight it ends. Tonight we win."
"I need you in your seats. Getting ready to land." Crane yelled back
Chris looked at her bitter sweetly nodding, as they both took their seats buckling in unison. She held back the tears that wanted to spill. Damn you, Redfield for making me such a sap. Fighting the urge and winning she looked over at Chris who was loading his gun, "I'm sorry if that sounded…"
"No, Jill." He said looking up forcing a smile although all his nerves were on edge, "No matter the cost, we will win."
She smiled that Jill Valentine smile that Chris swore made every theory in existence a cold hard fact. She was the light in the darkness that made everything okay, they could do this. They would do this. It was them against the world.