DISCLAMER: Everything belongs to their respective owners. The only thing in here that's mine, aside from the idea, is the character Samuel.
The alarms blared deep within the corridors of the Umbrella Paris Facility.
Samuel Delmon, recently promoted to head of security, shook with rage.
There was only one person, one man who could have done this, and so cleanly, sweeping in and out of the building like a breeze, taking what he came for and getting out again without even being caught.
Chris Redfield.
The bane of Umbrella's existence.
He had a deep hatred for Umbrella, and the ability to bring them down, bit by bit, piece by piece.
If ever there was an important delivery of chemicals, you could count on Redfield to destroy it.
His name was legend among the employees, his deeds infamous.
Samuel would be the one to bring him down. Redfield would not slip through his fingers.
"Hunt for this man," he commanded his small army of troops, pointing at the picture of the face every employee had grown to know and hate. "Comb the city, every street, every grate. You–put a guard at every gate. Drag him out! Shout the moment that you find him" Squad A hurried off to carry out his orders. Another, different alarm flashed. Redfield had struck again.
"DAMN!!!" Samuel bellowed. He frowned and tried to control his rage. "Lock all the doors, lock up the city, track him down through this town, and be quick about it now--!"
Squad B vanished down the corridor, hoping they were the ones to catch him.
He sighed, and addressed a newly arriving soldier, donning the face mask that marked him as a special agent. "How the devil can I ever prevail, when I'm only a man? I can never be duped by that scurvilous phantom again!"
The soldier's eyes, the only visible part of his face, looked a bit confused and sympathetic.
"I wasn't born to walk on water," Samuel continued, making casual conversation about his deepest feelings with this soldier whose name he didn't even know, "I wasn't born to sack and slaughter. But, on my soul, I wasn't born to stoop to scorn, and knuckle under." He started down the hall, gesturing for the soldier to follow.
A man can learn to steal some thunder
A man can learn to work some wonder
But when the god puts down, it's time
To rise and climb the sky
He barely noticed the soldier anymore.
And soon the moon will smolder
And the winds will drive
Yes, a man grows older
But his soul remains alive
For those tremulous stars still glitter
I will survive!
Let my heart grow colder
And as bitter
As a falcon in the dive
There was a dream, a dying ember
There was a dream I don't remember
But I will resurrect that dream
The rivers stream, and hills grow steeper
For here in hell, where life gets cheaper
Oh, here in hell, the blood runs deeper
And when the final duel is near
I'll lift my spear and fly
Pitching into the sky and higher
And the strong will thrive
Yes, the weak will cower
While the fittest will survive
If we wait for the darkest hour
He'll be spring alive
Then, with claws of fire
We devour
Like a falcon in the dive
"I want to kill him."
"Who?" the soldier asked carefully.
"Redfield, idiot, who else?" Samuel roared.
"Oh." The soldier was oddly quiet. Not that he'd said much anyways.
"These are the days," Samuel continued his monologue, not even caring if the soldier would listen or not. "These are glory days of rage and the dream. And the dream of Paris owned preys on my bones–gnawing night and day and crawling through my brain and no, never kneel" Of course, by now, Samuel was pretty much just saying whatever came into his head, and couldn't really stop. "Never bend! Rend him to bits, fight! Oh, the beauty of the fight"
The soldier was giving him and odd look.
Samuel inhaled deeply, calming himself. "I'm not a man to hunger for blood, but the spirit can cry to be younger and richer and fly"
Pitching into the sky and higher
And the strong will thrive
Yes, the weak will cower
While the fittest will survive
If we wait for the darkest hour
He'll be spring alive
Then, with claws of fire
We devour
Like a falcon in the dive
Samuel turned down a passageway. The soldier made no move to follow him. Instead, as soon as Samuel was out of sight, the soldier bolted for the sewer entrance, to make his escape, privately thinking that it must be a job requirement for Umbrella–are you insane? Okay, then, you can be the president of Umbrella! —head researcher —whatever.
The sewer exit posed no problem for the soldier, and Chris Redfield pulled off his soldier mask and escaped into the night.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first story up here, so please don't be too hard on me.