Death and Peace: Prologue 2 (of 4)
2.0 Her hair was strung all over the place with her body repositioned to where her arms were on each side. The head was gently placed upon a jacket surrounded in a small pool of red. The roar of the passing students has long passed. Instead the wind was the only thing that deviate the quiet atmosphere. The sun glowed brightly. Its rays almost blinded the young college student as a man's head began to shield its luminosity.
"Wake up," his voice robotically pitched in her ear. Claire's mouth gaped open as she slowly allowed her vision to return once more. She was still outside on the street. Her jeans felt hot as if they had heated up against the sun-baked sidewalk. "I'm. not dead." she squeaked.
"Paintball usually doesn't cause fatalities."
"PAINTBALL!?!" Claire shot up like a triggered mousetrap. She looked down and touched the area. "It is red paint." she mumbled. Her face turned a bright red; maybe out of anger. but mostly from embarrassment.
The cop stood up as he pulled out a clipboard. "Yep, apparently, there is a fraternity on RUSH right now. They claim that they were only trying to hit people that were "marked" and thought you were one of them considering you tried to cross the street while it was packed and continued to run down the sidewalk. I saw you getting shot at and figured I would check it out. So, aren't you going to get up, or do you find the concrete quite comfortable?" His tone was fairly professional. She could sense the heat of sarcasm eclipsing over it though. She should know. She has quite a mouth herself.
The man lent her a hand though; lifting her up as the red mixture oozed down from her upper chest and slipped into her bra beneath her ruined chestnut-colored shirt. She shuddered at the cold feel. It felt like someone stuck a handful of leeches down her blouse. Claire walked over towards her fallen book bag. Thankfully, no one had the heart to go by and steal the stuff inside. The books were still inside but the smaller articles seemed to have slipped out.
The man continued to watch her as she began to pick up various items that escaped the top of her bag. His sturdy body marched over towards the frightened young lass as he picked up her large black pouch.
His cool hand slowly pulled the handle revealing the heavy blade.
"1217 KBAR. these are mainly issued in the Marine Corps and other military services. so tell me, what would a helpless young girl like yourself be carrying a concealed weapon; nearly killing herself and endangering drivers." She could see his grip tightening over the rather large handle.
Her body temperature rose twenty degrees higher. Her body felt as if it was going to go through an epileptic seizure as all the sounds around her began to cloud up. "Look, someone out there is following me. I don't know why, but everywhere I go, there they are. Its only for protection, I swear it!"
The man slipped the weapon back into the pouch. "protection." he whispered.
Claire could feel his mental grip through his shaded eyes on her. She pulled her guardian back within her grasp. She didn't care though. All she wanted to do was get back to the dorms, watch FRIENDS, and take a very long shower. Shoving the weapon back into its proper destination; Claire threw her bag back over her shoulders and gave a quick jog back towards her normal route.
She felt like shit. At least that woman was gone though. At least she didn't shoot her like she thought she would. Why didn't she shoot her? The moment was perfect!
"No it wasn't." she mumbled. That cop was probably within her sights, its broad daylight, and there were people staring from her little trip across the street.
Claire halted. "Why would she bother to shoot me? I'm not important! I'm not some celebrity or a US Ambassador!?!" Claire walked over towards a short Granite wall. Her throbbing head leaned against its cold smooth surface.
"I'm not important. just to Chris. I'm all he has. he's all I have."
Various writings from marker to pencil were all over the slab of rock. One apparently had a huge red-ink heart around some bubblegum- type writing.
"Rosa + Patrick 4 Ever. Glad I don't have a jealous ex after me." Claire turned towards her watch. It was already three o'clock. The sun would be dying soon. Home is where she should be.
She continued.
The walk back felt a lot quicker than usual. Maybe cause she was not following her normal schedule and avoiding a snack at the college's local McDonalds.
"Soooo hungry." she thought to herself. She looked like shit. She wasn't into primping her up to her full beauty capacities but she wasn't going to walk in on everyone looking like she just got off some comedy stage with an unfunny act. Her hand wiped a little bit of the firming red crème. "Disgusting." She wiped it on her sleeve. It wasn't like her shirt wasn't ruin.
Food seemed to be the prime motive in her thoughts. Even ramen noodles were sounding tasty at that moment. However, the chemical scent was driving her crazy. Paint had a smell that was sweet at first but becomes stomach inducing after a while.
She stopped outside her dormitory. It was fairly comfortable to live in. Medium sized green hedges surrounded the place, while a large willow tree hung its lazy leaves over the rusting bike rack. She sighed as she trudged through the glass door entrance. Holding up her ID so the office attendant could see, the electronic doors made a click as she opened their heavy weight and entered.
The building itself was only one story high. Two stories if you count the old basement. She wanted a tiny dormitory, the type of place where it was easier to know your neighbors. Most importantly, Chris wanted "an all-girl" dormitory. Co-ed was out of the question. Considering he's breaking his back out there somewhere trying to get her through, she really has no say in the matter. Even if she did; after all he's done, going in a non-male dormitory was the least she could do.
Prologue 2.1 The cop slowly walked over towards a bench. The blue paint on its smooth grain was bright. Apparently it was colored recently. He turned down towards his report. The chicken scratch writing was on the border of legible. As long as he knew what he put down, he wasn't going to bother with perfecting it. There was only one other person who would probably read it before he got a chance to input it into the data files. Quite frankly, despite his ability to keep his cool and being raised to respect his higher- ups. he found Chief Irons to being nothing more than a hoggish prick. Not to mention, by the look in his eyes when sees the secretary outside the lobby, a sweaty pervert who's skin seems to break out in acne each time.
"God, how long do I have to stay in this town?"
He was trained in the art of covert, tactical, missions. Not only that but hand to hand combat, navigation, and various other activities. his favorite being rappelling. What does he use it for? Why to go off, and bust a couple of frat boys who find it fun to get drunk and moon a bus crowded with people. Everyone else was probably out getting "important" things done. Good thing he's not alone.
"You're getting sloppy," Wesker frowned as a woman walked towards him with a delicate hand cocked on her hip. Her bright red smile widened. The blood red lipstick seemed defining against her snow-white flesh.
"I can't help it. Generally when prey runs, it is only instinct that I 'hunt it'. She does look tasty but I don't think he would like it if I ate her already," her voice smoothly explained.
Her body gently sat down next to the man. Crossing a white pant leg over the other she gently laid a head on his firm bicep.
"Off," he commanded. His eyes never left the clipboard. Her face frowned as she stuck her tongue out briefly.
"You're no fun. What's the point of having all those dashing pectorals when you won't even show them off to the opposite sex?"
Wesker laid his forearm against the clipboard. He sighed at the immature conversation she started. A small yellow Volkswagen Beetle drove by as he took his pencil and pointed the pink eraser at her. "I work out.
.so that I can lift heavy objects easier. Answer. received." With that, he calmly went back to his paperwork.
The girl slapped her face. A small red handprint temporary formed under her fingers. "WELL DUH! Come on, Albert. You made that sound a little overdramatic for your own good. Tell me, there has to be SOMEONE on the team that you show off for!"
A small grin cracked on his face. This may be an amateur mission but there was nothing he liked better than to mess with the BOW's mind.
Her face flourished with anger. "Fine, be like that. I still think you should take a memo from Carlos though. Or are those pants too tight for you!?!"
There was a certain dominance factor that amused him about it. Maybe it was because he was the only person who she tries to charm and fails miserably at. To think, she was once one of Umbrella's prized weapons. But than again, he used to be one of their valued researchers.
Putting his John Hancock at the bottom, he stood up. The sound of joints popping all over broke the easy silence that had filled the street. Wesker kicked a small Pepsi can that was sitting on the ground. "So when was the last time you ate?"
She placed a finger to her lips. "Last Tuesday I believe. I'll have to make a stop at the local morgue before I continue my watch."
He turned his gaze away from her. "No. You're heading back. She's far too aware of your presence."
Her eyes narrowed. "We 'have' to keep an eye over her, Wesker. At least until school is up to ensured they don't pull anything or make any contact with her. ESPECIALLY, after what her brother did."
Yes but. now think about it. she still thinks I'm a cop. Right? I'll just tell her that I'm going to watch over her to make sure her 'stalker' doesn't threaten her like today."
The woman nodded. "I still don't see why we have to spy on her."
"She's a Redfield. You know Umbrella's policy on relatives. easy pickings."
"Do you think her brother would come and. check over her?"
Wesker cracked a grin before his ears picked up a low hum."Looks like your ride is here," he noted as the two turned directly at the street. A black SUV slowly drove up to the side.
Her thin body strutted in front of the vehicle, like a model on a walkway, as she opened the car door. A blast of cool air struck her face as she sat down and fastened her seat belt. She turned towards the driver. "Nice shot."
The man smiled as he pulled away from Wesker.
Wesker sighed as he approached his vehicle. Paintball. that has got to be the most ridiculous cover-up he's thought of yet.
"If it works, no point in being frustrated now."
He heard the familiar radio buzz on his side.
::All officers, I need back up::
*kutzk kutzk*
::Streakers on the loose heading south from Tillitson Ave. Over::
He grinded his teeth. Coffee with a dash of cyanide sounded good right now. Slowly pacing himself towards the blue and white car, he slammed his door cursing at himself over the ear-piercing sirens of the police vehicle.
Prologue 2.2
"CLAIRE!!! What happened!?! Oh my god. you look." Eliza's face froze as her mind searched for a word to describe her roommate.
"Go ahead. I look like shit." she muttered as she slammed the off white door behind her. Eliza straightened her black cat-eye glasses as she watched her roomie throw her book bag across the room. Claire was shaking. Her body rumbled as Eliza ran over for the medical kit.
Stepping over a couple of old pizza boxes and Harley Davidson magazines; she guided her way to the small cabinet. The dark blue carpet was filled with small crumbs that irritated her bare feet. "I've got to vacuum after this," she thought to herself. Eliza pulled the medium, sandy blonde hair behind her jewelry-heavy ears. "Where did I put it?" She should know. Being a biker meant a lot of accidents can happen. Claire and she probably used enough band-aids to patch the Titanic back together.
Claire's weary eyes gazed over at her. She watched thoughtfully as the frantic girl in the Raccoon City sweater toss various toiletries around the room. "Don't worry, its just paint." Her tone was fairly dry as she pulled off the red stained tee. Heaving her body towards the bathroom, she dragged her feet as she knelt down on the pink tile next to the tub.
Eliza sighed in relief. She took a moment to suck in a heavy breath. "Girl. don't scare me like that okay?" She plopped her aching body in the blue butterfly chair. She reached in her old jean pocket and fished out her inhaler. Placing the object against her lips, she felt its magic work on her.
Claire was already half nude in the bathroom. With the bathtub already filled with warm water and detergent, she attempted to scrub the red- colored objects. The bra was a piece of cake considering that it was black and still wet. Her beautiful brown hippie-gear baby shirt was dry and caked with its blood color. "Those shit heads. I swear. I should've asked that "Don Johnson: Miami Vice" look-alike if he seen the license plate so I could sue."
A bemused look was strung over Walker's fresh crisp face.
Claire sighed. "I guess I should tell you what happened, shouldn't I?"
"Yes, let's. A rule of thumb in the biochemistry field is that you can't solve "c" when "a" and "b" are both unknowns."
"Alright. I'll be brief though since it's a long story. Do you remember that one woman I kept seeing? The red-head?"
Eliza gave a sharp nod.
"I saw her again today. She was at the traffic light and."
The two girls sat in the three-room dorm. The peacefulness of Claire's tone with the sincerity of Eliza's grey-eyed gaze filled the place with a sense of warmth that can only be seen in the tenderness of moments. Both girls opted for "pot-luck" on their dorm mates. Faith brought them together with the hand of god. or by the school's misfortune that Claire's first roommate, Alma Crackhorn, had to quit college due to marrying some guy named Martin.
Eliza Walker was nothing like Alma. While Alma couldn't give a rat's ass if she got a "B" instead of an "A"; Eliza would study the chapters a month ahead before the professor talked about them. She was always there like the perfect sister. If Claire needed money, the witty blonde would lend her a five and wouldn't be in a hurry to get paid back. After all, she did manage to win the "Umbrella Tom Athens Scholarship in Biochemistry." Everything from tuition, books, and a healthy allowance of two hundred and fifty dollars a month ended any worries on paying for college. Nevertheless, Eliza was probably the best friend and most trusted friend she has right now. Her secrets are safe and secure.
". That was when I ran home. I should've gone back and talked to the cop more but at that point. I just wanted to be here."
The water swished back and forth as more of the scarlet color floated to the surface. Her hands were already starting to change from a light tan to a hint of burgundy.
Eliza walked over towards the box of Tide and scooped another cup. The scent of bleach irritated her pointed nose as she allowed the white powder to fall like snow on a nice December day. "Jingle bells, Jingle bells, Jingle all the way." she softly whistled.
The expression of Claire's troubled face slowly melted away. A hint of laughter began to emerge as she tossed a kiwi green shower puff at her face. Eliza screamed as the fluffy scrubber made contact causing her to fall back on a beanbag and spilling the detergent all over the clean bathroom. Claire grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapping around her chest. Both girls giggled as they began to take white powder from the floor and toss it back and forth like snowballs without a circular form. Despite it being spring; winter seemed to have come towards the small household. They felt like children once again.
Prologue 2.3
"Is Dad back yet? How long does it take to buy a floppy at Wal-Mart," Leon muttered to Cameron as the two sat on the edge of a bench outside of "Center Hall."
"You know how technologically illiterate he is. He's probably asking for 8- Tracks instead."
Leon nodded. Although the black brim of the cap shaded his eyes; he was still sweating like a pig from his big valedictorian speech. After all, it's bad enough that people don't listen to you. However, it's even worse when hundreds are waiting for you. He never had a problem with public speaking before. But he didn't do it in so long that he forgot a few "rules of the game": Never turn your back towards the audience. Maintain good eye contact with everyone at all times.
"Whatever, it's done. They'll probably forget about it after the dinner. You are a cop now. Damn life can't get any sweeter." A small grin squeaked through his lips.
Cameron turned towards his little brother. "Great, he's thinking of porn again. No one smiles like that out of thin air. Oh well, I guess that's a good sign. That probably means he was laid recently and just had a flashback," he thought to himself as he stifles a laughter.
Leon played around with the metallic-silver digital camera. His hidden gaze turned towards him for a bit and sighed. "He must be bored. I don't think people act that happy, out of nowhere, unless they are dreaming about making love in their head. Juliet, maybe? She always was his favorite."
Kathy raised her head towards the two children as they quietly sat on the other end. "Such perfect little angels," she thought to herself. As she held the large diploma in her hands, carefully she rubbed her soft fingers against the black leather cover. Gliding them towards the center, she felt the indentures of the gold academy's symbol. Perhaps it was her proud side showing; but she did enjoy looking over and over throughout the book. The fine hand-written penmanship, the small gold seals distinguishing him above the rest, and the abundance of signatures that remained on the paper. One of them was a little sloppy though. The name "Kennedy" did come close to the middle of the alphabet and the poor dear must've cramped their hand when he got to his.
It was good to have a rest though. The car trip was fairly tedious and Leon looked as if he's been in Satan's fiery grasp too long. She thought of coming over and hugging him more, but she felt old. She's learned from Cameron that when children reach this point of their life; they rather stray from their mothers and branch off to their own.
"This will be the last time we will be together, until Thanksgiving. Goodness they have grown up quickly." She smiled as thoughts of a much youthful self appeared in her thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Before I got my job in the English Department at Ashford High School; twenty years ago; I was a housewife.
Every morning, the pitter-patter of tiny steps would fill the air as my children smelled the warm breakfast of scrambled eggs and mouth-watering toast. Cameron was seven. Usually he would put on his school clothes after breakfast since he tended to spill ketchup all over his tiny pants. Leon was only two. He would have a one piece pair of red PJs with a little yellow duck over his heart. Every morning he would have the back end unbutton revealing his adorable bottom. Bless his father's heart. every time he saw them like that. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Leon, for Christ's sakes. Kathy, I know he's potty training right now, but can't we get him pajamas that don't have an opening at the end to them?" He spoke as he held his offspring like a football under his arm, gently with a tense hand, while buttoning the back with the other.
Kathy let out a silly laughter as, with a twist of the wrist, flipped over the egg fluid into an omelet. Her tightly curled hair all tied up with a bow gleamed in the sunlight. "Honey, do you remember what happened after I "DID" get him front opening pajamas?"
Ken rolled his eyes as Leon sat on his knee, holding his nightstick. He then reached down and rubbed the thin, silk-like, whitish blonde hair. Leon's cerulean, wide gaze met up with him.
"boom" he spoke as he sent the black, wooden, nightstick at his father's nose. Ken merely turned to the right to avoid a direct contact.
"Awww Leon, you missed!" Cameron snickered. His brown hair was combed neatly to the side as he brushes a little to see his mother set more delicious eggs in front of him. He smiled as he began to shovel the meal down his throat while decorating the top with a happy face made up of tomato paste.
Leon wasn't paying attention. Instead he slowly began to teethe on the end of the weapon while bouncing on the end of the cop's knee.
"KEN!" shrieked Kathy as she ran over and pulled the baton from the toddler's lips. "Do you realize how many germs could be on this thing?"
"Mom, Dad just got it yesterday. Besides, if it keeps him from chewing my GI JOE figures than more power to him." Cameron smashed the piece of egg with his fork, watching the cooked yolk squeeze between the prongs.
Ken merely flashed a wide grin as she pulled the stick up from her son's mouth and gave him a good whack outside of the head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Such fond memories," she whispered.
She turned towards her hands. They use to be so perfect. Now they were as soft as gelatin with various wrinkles and calluses that haunt the edge of her fingers.
She reached down for her compact. She always told herself that she would never be like her mother.
She stared at her brunette hair. Carefully she lifts a small strand to reveal a couple of streaks of white.
The auburn eyes and even the lips; like a wandering spirit, it has left her to haunt her two children. Kathy watched as the Oldsmobile came into view. The peaceful green trees swayed back and forth.
She turned back down to her hands again. Her same hands that held their bodies at birth and to holding their heads when they were upset over a breakup or a death in the family. The old sad face lifted to a smile. Her gold wedding ring remained untarnished through it all.
Love was always there with them.
"Kathy! Come on! Let's get this over with so we can get back to the hotel and let Leon pack his stuff tonight," Ken shouted as Leon and Cameron got the digital camera ready.
Kathy stood up. The wind blew her hair forward and whipped her dress like grain on an open field. She slowly paced herself as she felt the wind chill her body once more.
A teenage couple held the camera as the rest of the family joined her. Taking a moment to pick a pose, Ken took his arm and put it around his wife. She grinned under its warm weight. She maybe older, but she can still fluster like the best of them. Leon reached down and picked up his diploma. The two brothers took a moment to look at each as they gave a thumb up for the image.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chris: Okay Leon, hand it over
Leon: Fine. geez, talk about an anticlimactic resolution.
Claire: What are you two doing?
Leon: NOTHING!
Claire: You are doing "SOMETHING"
Rebecca: They took bets on whether you.
Claire: WHAT!?! Who else was in this!
Rebecca: Lets see. there's Barry, Carlos, John, Jill.
Sherry: Thanks Claire. Now I can get Butterfly Tattoo Barbie from the store now
Claire: Sigh. the writer hates me. it's so unfair. Anyways, next time in Death and Peace. Leon moves to Raccoon City and starts work while I got a notice from the RPD concerning Chris. things are starting heat up now as.
Leon: Hey Claire. do have like two dollars I can borrow?
Claire: Shut up, I can't believe you put money on me being dead
Chris: Dead?
Rebecca: Actually they took bets on how soon you would have a nude scene.
Leon: Can I Claire? Please! I'll pay you back and *PUNCH*
Claire: There. give your dentals to the tooth fairy and maybe she'll give you enough quarters to payback Chris
2.0 Her hair was strung all over the place with her body repositioned to where her arms were on each side. The head was gently placed upon a jacket surrounded in a small pool of red. The roar of the passing students has long passed. Instead the wind was the only thing that deviate the quiet atmosphere. The sun glowed brightly. Its rays almost blinded the young college student as a man's head began to shield its luminosity.
"Wake up," his voice robotically pitched in her ear. Claire's mouth gaped open as she slowly allowed her vision to return once more. She was still outside on the street. Her jeans felt hot as if they had heated up against the sun-baked sidewalk. "I'm. not dead." she squeaked.
"Paintball usually doesn't cause fatalities."
"PAINTBALL!?!" Claire shot up like a triggered mousetrap. She looked down and touched the area. "It is red paint." she mumbled. Her face turned a bright red; maybe out of anger. but mostly from embarrassment.
The cop stood up as he pulled out a clipboard. "Yep, apparently, there is a fraternity on RUSH right now. They claim that they were only trying to hit people that were "marked" and thought you were one of them considering you tried to cross the street while it was packed and continued to run down the sidewalk. I saw you getting shot at and figured I would check it out. So, aren't you going to get up, or do you find the concrete quite comfortable?" His tone was fairly professional. She could sense the heat of sarcasm eclipsing over it though. She should know. She has quite a mouth herself.
The man lent her a hand though; lifting her up as the red mixture oozed down from her upper chest and slipped into her bra beneath her ruined chestnut-colored shirt. She shuddered at the cold feel. It felt like someone stuck a handful of leeches down her blouse. Claire walked over towards her fallen book bag. Thankfully, no one had the heart to go by and steal the stuff inside. The books were still inside but the smaller articles seemed to have slipped out.
The man continued to watch her as she began to pick up various items that escaped the top of her bag. His sturdy body marched over towards the frightened young lass as he picked up her large black pouch.
His cool hand slowly pulled the handle revealing the heavy blade.
"1217 KBAR. these are mainly issued in the Marine Corps and other military services. so tell me, what would a helpless young girl like yourself be carrying a concealed weapon; nearly killing herself and endangering drivers." She could see his grip tightening over the rather large handle.
Her body temperature rose twenty degrees higher. Her body felt as if it was going to go through an epileptic seizure as all the sounds around her began to cloud up. "Look, someone out there is following me. I don't know why, but everywhere I go, there they are. Its only for protection, I swear it!"
The man slipped the weapon back into the pouch. "protection." he whispered.
Claire could feel his mental grip through his shaded eyes on her. She pulled her guardian back within her grasp. She didn't care though. All she wanted to do was get back to the dorms, watch FRIENDS, and take a very long shower. Shoving the weapon back into its proper destination; Claire threw her bag back over her shoulders and gave a quick jog back towards her normal route.
She felt like shit. At least that woman was gone though. At least she didn't shoot her like she thought she would. Why didn't she shoot her? The moment was perfect!
"No it wasn't." she mumbled. That cop was probably within her sights, its broad daylight, and there were people staring from her little trip across the street.
Claire halted. "Why would she bother to shoot me? I'm not important! I'm not some celebrity or a US Ambassador!?!" Claire walked over towards a short Granite wall. Her throbbing head leaned against its cold smooth surface.
"I'm not important. just to Chris. I'm all he has. he's all I have."
Various writings from marker to pencil were all over the slab of rock. One apparently had a huge red-ink heart around some bubblegum- type writing.
"Rosa + Patrick 4 Ever. Glad I don't have a jealous ex after me." Claire turned towards her watch. It was already three o'clock. The sun would be dying soon. Home is where she should be.
She continued.
The walk back felt a lot quicker than usual. Maybe cause she was not following her normal schedule and avoiding a snack at the college's local McDonalds.
"Soooo hungry." she thought to herself. She looked like shit. She wasn't into primping her up to her full beauty capacities but she wasn't going to walk in on everyone looking like she just got off some comedy stage with an unfunny act. Her hand wiped a little bit of the firming red crème. "Disgusting." She wiped it on her sleeve. It wasn't like her shirt wasn't ruin.
Food seemed to be the prime motive in her thoughts. Even ramen noodles were sounding tasty at that moment. However, the chemical scent was driving her crazy. Paint had a smell that was sweet at first but becomes stomach inducing after a while.
She stopped outside her dormitory. It was fairly comfortable to live in. Medium sized green hedges surrounded the place, while a large willow tree hung its lazy leaves over the rusting bike rack. She sighed as she trudged through the glass door entrance. Holding up her ID so the office attendant could see, the electronic doors made a click as she opened their heavy weight and entered.
The building itself was only one story high. Two stories if you count the old basement. She wanted a tiny dormitory, the type of place where it was easier to know your neighbors. Most importantly, Chris wanted "an all-girl" dormitory. Co-ed was out of the question. Considering he's breaking his back out there somewhere trying to get her through, she really has no say in the matter. Even if she did; after all he's done, going in a non-male dormitory was the least she could do.
Prologue 2.1 The cop slowly walked over towards a bench. The blue paint on its smooth grain was bright. Apparently it was colored recently. He turned down towards his report. The chicken scratch writing was on the border of legible. As long as he knew what he put down, he wasn't going to bother with perfecting it. There was only one other person who would probably read it before he got a chance to input it into the data files. Quite frankly, despite his ability to keep his cool and being raised to respect his higher- ups. he found Chief Irons to being nothing more than a hoggish prick. Not to mention, by the look in his eyes when sees the secretary outside the lobby, a sweaty pervert who's skin seems to break out in acne each time.
"God, how long do I have to stay in this town?"
He was trained in the art of covert, tactical, missions. Not only that but hand to hand combat, navigation, and various other activities. his favorite being rappelling. What does he use it for? Why to go off, and bust a couple of frat boys who find it fun to get drunk and moon a bus crowded with people. Everyone else was probably out getting "important" things done. Good thing he's not alone.
"You're getting sloppy," Wesker frowned as a woman walked towards him with a delicate hand cocked on her hip. Her bright red smile widened. The blood red lipstick seemed defining against her snow-white flesh.
"I can't help it. Generally when prey runs, it is only instinct that I 'hunt it'. She does look tasty but I don't think he would like it if I ate her already," her voice smoothly explained.
Her body gently sat down next to the man. Crossing a white pant leg over the other she gently laid a head on his firm bicep.
"Off," he commanded. His eyes never left the clipboard. Her face frowned as she stuck her tongue out briefly.
"You're no fun. What's the point of having all those dashing pectorals when you won't even show them off to the opposite sex?"
Wesker laid his forearm against the clipboard. He sighed at the immature conversation she started. A small yellow Volkswagen Beetle drove by as he took his pencil and pointed the pink eraser at her. "I work out.
.so that I can lift heavy objects easier. Answer. received." With that, he calmly went back to his paperwork.
The girl slapped her face. A small red handprint temporary formed under her fingers. "WELL DUH! Come on, Albert. You made that sound a little overdramatic for your own good. Tell me, there has to be SOMEONE on the team that you show off for!"
A small grin cracked on his face. This may be an amateur mission but there was nothing he liked better than to mess with the BOW's mind.
Her face flourished with anger. "Fine, be like that. I still think you should take a memo from Carlos though. Or are those pants too tight for you!?!"
There was a certain dominance factor that amused him about it. Maybe it was because he was the only person who she tries to charm and fails miserably at. To think, she was once one of Umbrella's prized weapons. But than again, he used to be one of their valued researchers.
Putting his John Hancock at the bottom, he stood up. The sound of joints popping all over broke the easy silence that had filled the street. Wesker kicked a small Pepsi can that was sitting on the ground. "So when was the last time you ate?"
She placed a finger to her lips. "Last Tuesday I believe. I'll have to make a stop at the local morgue before I continue my watch."
He turned his gaze away from her. "No. You're heading back. She's far too aware of your presence."
Her eyes narrowed. "We 'have' to keep an eye over her, Wesker. At least until school is up to ensured they don't pull anything or make any contact with her. ESPECIALLY, after what her brother did."
Yes but. now think about it. she still thinks I'm a cop. Right? I'll just tell her that I'm going to watch over her to make sure her 'stalker' doesn't threaten her like today."
The woman nodded. "I still don't see why we have to spy on her."
"She's a Redfield. You know Umbrella's policy on relatives. easy pickings."
"Do you think her brother would come and. check over her?"
Wesker cracked a grin before his ears picked up a low hum."Looks like your ride is here," he noted as the two turned directly at the street. A black SUV slowly drove up to the side.
Her thin body strutted in front of the vehicle, like a model on a walkway, as she opened the car door. A blast of cool air struck her face as she sat down and fastened her seat belt. She turned towards the driver. "Nice shot."
The man smiled as he pulled away from Wesker.
Wesker sighed as he approached his vehicle. Paintball. that has got to be the most ridiculous cover-up he's thought of yet.
"If it works, no point in being frustrated now."
He heard the familiar radio buzz on his side.
::All officers, I need back up::
*kutzk kutzk*
::Streakers on the loose heading south from Tillitson Ave. Over::
He grinded his teeth. Coffee with a dash of cyanide sounded good right now. Slowly pacing himself towards the blue and white car, he slammed his door cursing at himself over the ear-piercing sirens of the police vehicle.
Prologue 2.2
"CLAIRE!!! What happened!?! Oh my god. you look." Eliza's face froze as her mind searched for a word to describe her roommate.
"Go ahead. I look like shit." she muttered as she slammed the off white door behind her. Eliza straightened her black cat-eye glasses as she watched her roomie throw her book bag across the room. Claire was shaking. Her body rumbled as Eliza ran over for the medical kit.
Stepping over a couple of old pizza boxes and Harley Davidson magazines; she guided her way to the small cabinet. The dark blue carpet was filled with small crumbs that irritated her bare feet. "I've got to vacuum after this," she thought to herself. Eliza pulled the medium, sandy blonde hair behind her jewelry-heavy ears. "Where did I put it?" She should know. Being a biker meant a lot of accidents can happen. Claire and she probably used enough band-aids to patch the Titanic back together.
Claire's weary eyes gazed over at her. She watched thoughtfully as the frantic girl in the Raccoon City sweater toss various toiletries around the room. "Don't worry, its just paint." Her tone was fairly dry as she pulled off the red stained tee. Heaving her body towards the bathroom, she dragged her feet as she knelt down on the pink tile next to the tub.
Eliza sighed in relief. She took a moment to suck in a heavy breath. "Girl. don't scare me like that okay?" She plopped her aching body in the blue butterfly chair. She reached in her old jean pocket and fished out her inhaler. Placing the object against her lips, she felt its magic work on her.
Claire was already half nude in the bathroom. With the bathtub already filled with warm water and detergent, she attempted to scrub the red- colored objects. The bra was a piece of cake considering that it was black and still wet. Her beautiful brown hippie-gear baby shirt was dry and caked with its blood color. "Those shit heads. I swear. I should've asked that "Don Johnson: Miami Vice" look-alike if he seen the license plate so I could sue."
A bemused look was strung over Walker's fresh crisp face.
Claire sighed. "I guess I should tell you what happened, shouldn't I?"
"Yes, let's. A rule of thumb in the biochemistry field is that you can't solve "c" when "a" and "b" are both unknowns."
"Alright. I'll be brief though since it's a long story. Do you remember that one woman I kept seeing? The red-head?"
Eliza gave a sharp nod.
"I saw her again today. She was at the traffic light and."
The two girls sat in the three-room dorm. The peacefulness of Claire's tone with the sincerity of Eliza's grey-eyed gaze filled the place with a sense of warmth that can only be seen in the tenderness of moments. Both girls opted for "pot-luck" on their dorm mates. Faith brought them together with the hand of god. or by the school's misfortune that Claire's first roommate, Alma Crackhorn, had to quit college due to marrying some guy named Martin.
Eliza Walker was nothing like Alma. While Alma couldn't give a rat's ass if she got a "B" instead of an "A"; Eliza would study the chapters a month ahead before the professor talked about them. She was always there like the perfect sister. If Claire needed money, the witty blonde would lend her a five and wouldn't be in a hurry to get paid back. After all, she did manage to win the "Umbrella Tom Athens Scholarship in Biochemistry." Everything from tuition, books, and a healthy allowance of two hundred and fifty dollars a month ended any worries on paying for college. Nevertheless, Eliza was probably the best friend and most trusted friend she has right now. Her secrets are safe and secure.
". That was when I ran home. I should've gone back and talked to the cop more but at that point. I just wanted to be here."
The water swished back and forth as more of the scarlet color floated to the surface. Her hands were already starting to change from a light tan to a hint of burgundy.
Eliza walked over towards the box of Tide and scooped another cup. The scent of bleach irritated her pointed nose as she allowed the white powder to fall like snow on a nice December day. "Jingle bells, Jingle bells, Jingle all the way." she softly whistled.
The expression of Claire's troubled face slowly melted away. A hint of laughter began to emerge as she tossed a kiwi green shower puff at her face. Eliza screamed as the fluffy scrubber made contact causing her to fall back on a beanbag and spilling the detergent all over the clean bathroom. Claire grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapping around her chest. Both girls giggled as they began to take white powder from the floor and toss it back and forth like snowballs without a circular form. Despite it being spring; winter seemed to have come towards the small household. They felt like children once again.
Prologue 2.3
"Is Dad back yet? How long does it take to buy a floppy at Wal-Mart," Leon muttered to Cameron as the two sat on the edge of a bench outside of "Center Hall."
"You know how technologically illiterate he is. He's probably asking for 8- Tracks instead."
Leon nodded. Although the black brim of the cap shaded his eyes; he was still sweating like a pig from his big valedictorian speech. After all, it's bad enough that people don't listen to you. However, it's even worse when hundreds are waiting for you. He never had a problem with public speaking before. But he didn't do it in so long that he forgot a few "rules of the game": Never turn your back towards the audience. Maintain good eye contact with everyone at all times.
"Whatever, it's done. They'll probably forget about it after the dinner. You are a cop now. Damn life can't get any sweeter." A small grin squeaked through his lips.
Cameron turned towards his little brother. "Great, he's thinking of porn again. No one smiles like that out of thin air. Oh well, I guess that's a good sign. That probably means he was laid recently and just had a flashback," he thought to himself as he stifles a laughter.
Leon played around with the metallic-silver digital camera. His hidden gaze turned towards him for a bit and sighed. "He must be bored. I don't think people act that happy, out of nowhere, unless they are dreaming about making love in their head. Juliet, maybe? She always was his favorite."
Kathy raised her head towards the two children as they quietly sat on the other end. "Such perfect little angels," she thought to herself. As she held the large diploma in her hands, carefully she rubbed her soft fingers against the black leather cover. Gliding them towards the center, she felt the indentures of the gold academy's symbol. Perhaps it was her proud side showing; but she did enjoy looking over and over throughout the book. The fine hand-written penmanship, the small gold seals distinguishing him above the rest, and the abundance of signatures that remained on the paper. One of them was a little sloppy though. The name "Kennedy" did come close to the middle of the alphabet and the poor dear must've cramped their hand when he got to his.
It was good to have a rest though. The car trip was fairly tedious and Leon looked as if he's been in Satan's fiery grasp too long. She thought of coming over and hugging him more, but she felt old. She's learned from Cameron that when children reach this point of their life; they rather stray from their mothers and branch off to their own.
"This will be the last time we will be together, until Thanksgiving. Goodness they have grown up quickly." She smiled as thoughts of a much youthful self appeared in her thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Before I got my job in the English Department at Ashford High School; twenty years ago; I was a housewife.
Every morning, the pitter-patter of tiny steps would fill the air as my children smelled the warm breakfast of scrambled eggs and mouth-watering toast. Cameron was seven. Usually he would put on his school clothes after breakfast since he tended to spill ketchup all over his tiny pants. Leon was only two. He would have a one piece pair of red PJs with a little yellow duck over his heart. Every morning he would have the back end unbutton revealing his adorable bottom. Bless his father's heart. every time he saw them like that. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Leon, for Christ's sakes. Kathy, I know he's potty training right now, but can't we get him pajamas that don't have an opening at the end to them?" He spoke as he held his offspring like a football under his arm, gently with a tense hand, while buttoning the back with the other.
Kathy let out a silly laughter as, with a twist of the wrist, flipped over the egg fluid into an omelet. Her tightly curled hair all tied up with a bow gleamed in the sunlight. "Honey, do you remember what happened after I "DID" get him front opening pajamas?"
Ken rolled his eyes as Leon sat on his knee, holding his nightstick. He then reached down and rubbed the thin, silk-like, whitish blonde hair. Leon's cerulean, wide gaze met up with him.
"boom" he spoke as he sent the black, wooden, nightstick at his father's nose. Ken merely turned to the right to avoid a direct contact.
"Awww Leon, you missed!" Cameron snickered. His brown hair was combed neatly to the side as he brushes a little to see his mother set more delicious eggs in front of him. He smiled as he began to shovel the meal down his throat while decorating the top with a happy face made up of tomato paste.
Leon wasn't paying attention. Instead he slowly began to teethe on the end of the weapon while bouncing on the end of the cop's knee.
"KEN!" shrieked Kathy as she ran over and pulled the baton from the toddler's lips. "Do you realize how many germs could be on this thing?"
"Mom, Dad just got it yesterday. Besides, if it keeps him from chewing my GI JOE figures than more power to him." Cameron smashed the piece of egg with his fork, watching the cooked yolk squeeze between the prongs.
Ken merely flashed a wide grin as she pulled the stick up from her son's mouth and gave him a good whack outside of the head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Such fond memories," she whispered.
She turned towards her hands. They use to be so perfect. Now they were as soft as gelatin with various wrinkles and calluses that haunt the edge of her fingers.
She reached down for her compact. She always told herself that she would never be like her mother.
She stared at her brunette hair. Carefully she lifts a small strand to reveal a couple of streaks of white.
The auburn eyes and even the lips; like a wandering spirit, it has left her to haunt her two children. Kathy watched as the Oldsmobile came into view. The peaceful green trees swayed back and forth.
She turned back down to her hands again. Her same hands that held their bodies at birth and to holding their heads when they were upset over a breakup or a death in the family. The old sad face lifted to a smile. Her gold wedding ring remained untarnished through it all.
Love was always there with them.
"Kathy! Come on! Let's get this over with so we can get back to the hotel and let Leon pack his stuff tonight," Ken shouted as Leon and Cameron got the digital camera ready.
Kathy stood up. The wind blew her hair forward and whipped her dress like grain on an open field. She slowly paced herself as she felt the wind chill her body once more.
A teenage couple held the camera as the rest of the family joined her. Taking a moment to pick a pose, Ken took his arm and put it around his wife. She grinned under its warm weight. She maybe older, but she can still fluster like the best of them. Leon reached down and picked up his diploma. The two brothers took a moment to look at each as they gave a thumb up for the image.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chris: Okay Leon, hand it over
Leon: Fine. geez, talk about an anticlimactic resolution.
Claire: What are you two doing?
Leon: NOTHING!
Claire: You are doing "SOMETHING"
Rebecca: They took bets on whether you.
Claire: WHAT!?! Who else was in this!
Rebecca: Lets see. there's Barry, Carlos, John, Jill.
Sherry: Thanks Claire. Now I can get Butterfly Tattoo Barbie from the store now
Claire: Sigh. the writer hates me. it's so unfair. Anyways, next time in Death and Peace. Leon moves to Raccoon City and starts work while I got a notice from the RPD concerning Chris. things are starting heat up now as.
Leon: Hey Claire. do have like two dollars I can borrow?
Claire: Shut up, I can't believe you put money on me being dead
Chris: Dead?
Rebecca: Actually they took bets on how soon you would have a nude scene.
Leon: Can I Claire? Please! I'll pay you back and *PUNCH*
Claire: There. give your dentals to the tooth fairy and maybe she'll give you enough quarters to payback Chris