A/N: Sorry it took so long, got bogged down with homework and writers block. More on the way, and keep reviewing!


Barry muttered as he scooped the massive pile of papers back up into a neat stack, cursing the day paper was invented, although Joseph probably would argue that Barry was old enough that he just would have had to engrave it in stone. Even though he was only 38, he was the oldest member of the S.T.A.R.S. team, and received plenty of harmless flak about it. He saw Chris walk in, looking more dead to the world than ever. His eyes were bloodshot, with purpley bags underneath. His hair, though clean, was a bit tousled, and he obviously hadn't bothered to shave. "Hey buddy, lookin' sharp," Joseph Frost, their mechanic, prodded with a toothy grin. The simple response was something between a grunt, a sigh, and a moan. "Long night on the town?"

"You could say that," answered an almost equally disheveled Jill as she came through the oak door. Barry couldn't hold back a low chuckle.

"What did you two do last night?" Joseph asked in an insinuating tone.

"You read the paper this morning? Front page, we're both on it," slurred Chris.

"Which one?"

"All of them."

"What happened?" Barry asked, now really interested and mildly worried.

"Two more deaths, been confirmed that they were chewed on by canines. Still no ID, there wasn't much left to identify."

"Damn." Barry rubbed his short, red beard. "You think Irons is gonna give the case to us soon?"

Wesker, the S.T.A.R.S. captain, spoke without as much as looking up from what he was doing. "I'm working on it." His expression was tense and grim. Then again, since when was that unusual thing?

Barry accidentally knocked over the pile of papers again and they exploded everywhere as they hit the floor. "God damn it!" He heard Joseph snicker from across the room and shot him an icy glare.

Wesker ignored them as Chris poured two cups of coffee, handing one to Jill and sipping from the other. He sat down and began to rummage for something amidst the clutter on his desk. Brad finally showed up, late for the third time in a row, and got an annoyed look from Wesker while they passed each other in the doorway. The S.T.A.R.S. captain had "other matters" to attend to.

"So Chris," Barry began, "Kendo is almost done with those Samurai Edge Berettas. We should be getting them soon."

The younger man's face brightened. "What are the specs on 'em?"

Barry chuckled. "All the usual, plus a longer Inox barrel, optional eighteen round magazine, reduced recoil, custom sights, brigadier slide, and cherry wood grips. Any gun nut's wet dream."

Chris let out a low whistle. "Sounds like Kendo's putting a lot of work into this."

"No kidding." Barry saw Jill roll her eyes in feigned disgust. "What?"

She laughed, then jokingly commented, "I'll never get over how obsessed you two are with guns."

"Tsk tsk. If it weren't for our, as you say, obsession with guns, where would you be? Heck, Chris and I wouldn't even know each other."

Wesker came back into the room, ending conversation with a simple glare. He should get hired as a high school teacher, thought Barry. He'd be able to keep the classroom quiet. The S.T.A.R.S. captain sat down and had just begun signing papers when his phone rang. "What?"

Barry heard a muffled sound that could only be orders over the phone as the captain sat with an ever-increasing look of seriousness. Must be bad. "Okay, Alphas. We have a hostage situation at the offices on Ivy and French, three gunmen with sub-machine guns and a shotgun, wearing Kevlar. I want everyone ready for action in five minutes."


The S.T.A.R.S. van screeched to a stop as the back doors flew wide. Chris was out first, silenced M4 in hand, and was followed by Barry and Jill. Marvin Branaugh was yelling orders through a bullhorn to the criminals inside, but they had no intent of surrender. Intel had said that they were holding the hostages somewhere on the second floor. High threat level.

"Redfield, you know what to do," said Wesker from behind dark sunglasses. Chris nodded and led the team around back, past a dumpster and some miscellaneous junk. The door was locked, but this proved no issue as Jill picked it in mere seconds, quite possibly setting a new personal record. Rifles raised, they entered as the door swung silently open.

Little was out of place that they could immediately see, although with closer inspection Chris noticed the cameras were all disabled, a bullet through each one's lens. His boots made little noise on the carpet. They worked their way through an office, and down another length of hallway. A few framed paintings decorated the tan walls of each passage. The steep staircase was just ahead, and Chris peeked around the corner before heading up while Barry stayed on the first floor. It wasn't long before he began to hear shouts and yells. They were coming from around the corner of the hallway, past a number of offices. The duo moved slowly, doing their best to remain quiet and check the corners. Chris crouched as they came around the bend, motioning Jill to do the same. One man stood in their path, black ski mask covering his face and an MP5 in hand. He spotted Chris right as Chris fired. The .223 round hit the gunman between the eyes with a plunk, and he fell to the ground as blood splashed out the back of his head.

"One down," Chris whispered. He signaled for Jill to stay put as he moved to the door.

Suddenly it burst open, the man on the other side barely pausing in surprise before leveling his shotgun at Chris. A three-round burst struck the man in the chest before he had a chance to fire, and Chris kicked away the 12 gauge as he looked for the other gunman. He was nowhere to be seen.

Jill cried out, and Chris spun to see she was being held in a chokehold by the third criminal, a revolver held against her head. She struggled for a brief moment, then kicked him in the groin, making him let her go and giving Chris a clear shot as she ducked out of the way. He fired, and the man toppled to the floor, blood gushing from multiple bullet wounds.

"Thanks," Jill said, a little out of breath.

"It's what I'm here for," Chris replied with a grin.

They walked into the room, still a little cautious, to find about two dozen office workers. One of the hostages yelled, "There's a bomb in here!" The frightened man pointed with a shaking finger to a tangle of wires and other various materials. The digital display counted down, with two minutes left on the clock. Jill took charge.

"Everyone, get out of the building!" She motioned for Chris to go as she began working to disarm the device and the hostages stampeded for the exit.

"I'm not leaving you in here."

"Yes you are, if I can't disarm the bomb in time I don't want you to die to. This thing's got enough C-four to level this building, and the ones next to it. Get everyone away."

Chris wanted to argue, but he knew his duty. He charged down the stairs, grabbing Barry, and burst out the front door. "Everyone back! There's a bomb inside!"

Branaugh nodded and relayed the message over his bullhorn, louder so the entire crowd could hear. "Everyone, get as far away from the building as you can. There is a bomb on the second floor. I repeat, everyone get away from the building. There is a bomb." Chris estimated only a minute left at most.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he ran back in as he heard Wesker yell for him to stay outside. The life of his partner was his responsibility. Taking each step two at a time, Chris flew up the stairs and ran for the room at the end of the hall where Jill sat digging through the wires. The timer read 0:27. He was about to grab her and jump out the window when she must have found the right one, and the clock went dark.

"Got it." She turned around to see Chris. "You just can't follow orders, can you?" Her expression was somewhat amused as opposed to accusatory.

"You did it again. One of these days I'm gonna have to stop worrying about you."

She smiled. "One of these days."