Forever
-chapter thirteen
I feel my wings have broken in your hands
I feel the words unspoken inside
And they pull you under
And I would give you anything you want
You were all I wanted
All my dreams have fallen down
Crawl around
Somebody save me
Break right through
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it
Just save, save, come on
I've been waiting for you
Somebody save me...
~remy zero, "save me"
"Chris Redfield, you've sunk to a new low."
...Claire Redfield said, as she watched her brother gleefully fit himself underneath the cardboard refridgerator box he had produced from downstairs. Chris, underneath the box, moved around as if to test out the manuverability of his new vehicle. He moved around underneath the cardboard box surprisingly well.
"This is a self contained tactical camoflague reconnaisance vehicle, Claire. An S.C.T.C.R.V. for short. I'm sorry if lesser minds such as yourself can't grasp such concepts." Chris said, turning the box and looking at his sister through the slit in the box. His voice was muffled somewhat by the cardboard, but Claire got the most of what he was saying.
"Lesser minds? Who's underneath the box pretending to be a video game character and acting like a four year old?" she retorted.
"Look sis, do you wanna find out what Beccy and Carlos are talking about or not? This way you can find out what they're saying, plus me and Leon here get some training in tactical espionage."
Claire bit her lip. She did want to know what the would-be couple were talking about.. it was gossip, afterall, and Claire Redfield thrived on gossip.
"You'll never get close enough to hear what they're saying without them catching you." Jill said. She went up to the box and gave it a small kick, sending the cardboard box flying and revealing Chris underneath in the prone position, looking through where his self named "tactical vision display" was several seconds ago. Really, it was that slit in the box used for lifting it easily.
Chris looked up at his girlfriend for several seconds.
"Look, it's either we make an attempt to amuse ourselves and try to see what Carlos and Beccy are talking about on the porch downstairs, or we sit here in this study for god knows how long while those two talk it out, passing around a blitzball until eventually we die of boredom. Now please, stop kicking my tactical camoflague reconaissance vehicle around, it has several delicate electronic components."
"He has a point. I've been hit by that beachball enough." Leon stated. He had put the miniature earpiece Chris tossed him several seconds ago into his ear. Claire tried to find it in his ear, but couldn't; it was that small.
"All right..." Jill began in her most 'official' voice, "but me and Claire officially wash ourselves clean of this stupid plan. If Carlos and Beccy find out you two are eavesdropping on their personal conversation, I'm personally declaring right here and now that I have nothing to do with it, and therefore cannot provide support in the possibility of retaliation from the victims of your stupid plan. Capish? You with me, Claire? Claire?"
Jill looked around, expecting the younger Redfield to agree with her in dismissing Chris' plan as being childish and intruding on the others' privacy. She turned to find that Claire had already set up Chris' laptop to work as the receiver for the communicators and was testing out the frequencies with Chris.
Jill hung her head and slouched her shoulders. Where could she find some mature people to hang around with?
* * *
"Snoopy? What the hell kinda callsign is Snoopy?"
"Don't ask me, Leon. Claire gave it to you."
"But Snoopy? What the? At least you get a cool callsign.. why not me?"
"Because I made mine up. I think Jill's callsign's pretty cool... Deepthroat One."
"Deepthroat One huh? sounds like what Jill did to you to get you in this happy mood all of a sudde-"
Leon couldn't quite f inish his sentence when Chris turned around inside the box and gave him a solid punch to the shoulder. Both of the guys were inside the refridgerator box Chris had produced. He also went through the mind-racking process of picking an operation name, and after much deliberation, came up with the name "Operation Cardboard Box."
After a best of thirty-seven rock-paper-scissors tournament, Chris had won the priviliage of going first into the box and thus being able to use the Tactical Vison Slit. Leon, being the loser, was forced to take the rear position, where his movement and vision was severly limited by Chris' behind.
After several minutes of testing out the movement and agility of their vehicle, Operation Cardboard Box was officially underway, and the two eventually made their way to the kitchen, just a few feet from the door that led to the porch where Beccy and Carlos sat. They thought they made enough noise falling down the stairs after Leon zigged when Chris zagged, but they fortunately didn't cause enough noise to alert Beccy and Carlos.
"Be quiet, retard. That's the purpose of this being a covert operation."
"Covert operation, bah. We're two grown guys inside a fricking cardboard box trying to eavesdrop on our friends' conversation. It's as covert as you and Jill were last night."
"Goddamn, does everyone know about that?"
"No shit, sherlock."
"Silence, young Raiden."
"And that's another thing!" Leon began, annoyance rising in his hushed voice underneath the box, "why do you get to be Solid Snake? Raiden's a loser."
"Which is why you're Raiden! And besides," Chris pointed to his forehead, where Jill had tied on a makeshift bandanna made from her black socks, "I've got infinite ammo."
"Bah."
Chris, a smile appearing on his face knowing that he had bested his younger comrade once again, tapped the communicator behind his ear once, opening up the comm-link to Claire upstairs.
"This is Snake. Do you read, Deepthroat One?"
"Loud and Clear, over." Jill's voice said, clearly and smoothly on the other end.
"Roger that, Deepthroat One. Objective One complete, the "Delivery Box" is at Waypoint Alpha. Operation integrity and security are still at optimum levels. The S.C.T.C.R.V. is performing at Level Cypher-Six-Ghost. A minor fall down the stairs did not damage the vehicle's exterior integrity. Moving on to Objective Two, entering exterior portions of the Alpha Oscar (Area of Operations). Sector Bravo is within sight, moving to Waypoint Bravo.... now, over."
"What?" Jill said.
"We're going outside now, Jill." Leon clarified.
"Ahhh. Roger that, Snake. Confirmed completion of Objective One. Moving on to Objective Two and Waypoint Bravo. Good luck, over."
"Roger that, Deepthroat One. Over and out."
With that, Chris nodded to Leon. After several seconds of trying to cooridinate their movements, they finally began to move towards the general direction of the door and the porch beyond. Leon, obviously not liking his position in the rear of the box, had to make a comment.
"You need to give Jenny a call, Chris. You know, Mrs. Craig."
"Maintain noise discipline, Snoopy!"
Chris kicked backward with one of his feet for emphasis, hitting Leon in the forehead. Leon growled and continued to move on. Chris smiled in the box; he had bested his younger comrade once again. With some satisfaction evident in the Captain's face, he moved the box forward. He was within two feet of the door...
"This is Snake. Do you read, Deepthroat One?"
"Loud and clear."
"The S.C.T.C.R.V. is now two feet from the door leading to Sector Bravo and Waypoint Bravo. We are now within door opening range. Employing the Pandora....now. Is the Pandora ready, Snoopy?"
"The device is ready, Snake."
Chris reached backward within the box, where Leon placed the hyper- advanced-technology gadget in his hand. It was really just a bunch of spare chopsticks and plastic utensils taped together to form a long rod with a coat hanger hook at the end to open the door with, but like everything else involved in the operation, Chris wanted to give it a callsign and thus christened it the "Pandora."
"This is Snake. I have the Pandora. Extending the device.... now."
Chris poked the device out of the Tactical Vision Slit, and was reaching for the door...
Only to have the door open while he was poking at the handle. Immediately, he withdrew the device back into the box and gave Leon a pat on the head, the signal that they were in danger of being captured, and to stay completely still.
Chris watched as the door he was poking at several seconds before swung open to reveal the form of Rebecca, followed closely by Carlos.
"Hey, this box wasn't here when we went outside, was it, honey?"
* * *
"Geez, I can't believe we're doing this. I mean, we're all grown adults, and we have to resort to using a cardboard box to eavesdrop on what our friends outside are doing. And to top it all off, my mature boyfriend, the Captain of a world-class anti-terrorist squad no less, is in that box."
"Shaddup, Jill. Even soldiers need to have some fun every once in a while." Claire retorted. Jill was fiddling with Chris' laptop, waiting for the boys downstairs to check in next. Claire was sitting on the ground, tossing the blitzball against the wall and back to her anxiously waiting for the boys' next check-in.
After several seconds of silence, the familiar "beep beep dong" of Chris' MSN alerting him he had received a new email rang out. Jill clicked on it.
"You know Jill, peeking at my brother's email is rude."
"And what do you call sneaking downstairs to eavesdrop on Carlos and Beccy?"
"Touche."
"I thought so," Jill said, as she began to browse the email's contents. Soon, her brows furrowed as she pored over the document. A look of shock crossed her face. Several seconds later, she darted up from her seat and ran downstairs.
Claire was completely surprised by Jill's actions, and moved to the laptop to find out what had caused her to rush downstairs. After several seconds of staring at the screen, she read the words out loud just to make sure she was actually seeing them:
"Attention: S.T.A.R.S. Captain Christopher Redfield: Your services are required at Home Base. A situation is underway which requires your squad's expertise, repeat, urgent, urgent, urgent..."
* * *
"Chris! Chris! Chris!" Jill shouted, screaming and dashing down the stairs. She found Carlos and Beccy, hand in hand, poking at the S.C.T.C.R.V. with a kitchen knife.
"Chris!" Jill said one more time. She rushed to the box and kicked it, getting a "ouch!" from Leon inside and sending the box flying, revealing the two grown men in the prone position, Leon clutching his side.
"Did you have to kick so hard!?" Leon said, grimacing.
Chris immediately sushed the both of them, bringing a finger to his lips.
"Shut up! They'll hear us..." Chris said, a wide smile on his face, pointing to where Beccy and Carlos stood looking quizzically at the two who were in the box. His sock bandanna hung in his eyes, giving him the appearance of a boy who had just gone berserk in his dad's sock drawer.
"No, you shut up! There's something important you need to see upstairs.. it has to do with Bravo; they went to investigate a hostage situation but the tangoes gave them some competition and now they've been forced to retreat. Barry says you should call him cuz there's been casualt- " Jill was trying to say too many things at once, and Chris got up and held on to her shoulders to try to get her to speak at a rate that human beings could understand.
"Hold on, hold on, Jill. Now what's happened?"
Jill took several breaths to calm herself. Claire came down from upstairs, with the same tense look Jill held. After several seconds, Jill looked straight at Chris with an emotion in her eyes Chris hadn't seen since the last time they were out in the field.
"Our vacation's over."
* * *
"What?" Leon questioned, "I don't believe this, we finally get some vacation time, in a frickin mansion, no less, and we get called back for active duty. One word comes to mind-"
"BAH." Carlos finished.
"Shut up. Our duty comes before pleasure, boys." Chris said, getting his younger and somewhat less mature (at least, to Chris) comrades in check. "Now Jill," he continued, "get me a phone and get Barry on it; I want a full operation run-down from him. Carlos and Leon, contact S.T.A.R.S. base and get a chopper out here a.s.a.p., then get it primed. Claire, fix this place up in case we don't get an opportunity to get back before this thing finishes. Beccy, get on the horn with the S.T.A.R.S. base, tell them to get all our OP gear ready, I want full operation status on our equipment. Everyone outside and saddled up in ten minutes. Let's move!"
...Chris finished, rapidly issuing orders and watching as his team, albeit with the odd grumble at the abrupt end to their vacation, hurried off to do as their Captain ordered them. He too disliked the prospect of having to do an operation when seconds ago he had been having quite the fun time, but he knew above all other people that his duty came first. And his duty was an important one; saving lives.
Jill called to him, and he picked up the phone. Barry was on the other line, but his voice was somewhat different; he seemed tired and out of breath. Around Barry on the other side of the line Chris could hear the general noise involved with an operation, such as police sirens and people talking about what they should do next.
"Barry? What the hell is going on?"
"Shit... Listen Chris, we were called down to a minor hostage situation downtown. Some delegates from the international community, diplomats, presidents, prime ministers and what-not are in town for an anti- terrorist conference. At around 5:30 a group of armed and pretty damn well organized terrorists busted in and started taking hostages."
"Any casualties?"
"That's the thing; at least twenty confirmed dead. All civilians... These bastards aren't fooling around."
"Any ID on the terrorists?"
"Partially. They're a European Fundamentalist group called the 'Phoenix Connexion.' These guys aren't your average rag-tag group of terrorists, though, they're well trained and well armed. Anyways, the cops called us in, and we deployed...." Barry's voice trailed off, as if he was unsure of what to say.
"And? What happened to Charlie, Barry?"
"We.... we were... hit hard. It's wierd; they seemed like they knew exactly what we were doing and when we were gonna do it. We went for a standard rear-guard entrance, Pattern Bravo-Five-Zero, but they were waiting... Nothing we could do but fire blindly at them and make a retreat with our wounded."
"Any... any Charlie casualties, Barry?" Chris hesitated to ask. Barry took several seconds before answering. In the background Chris could hear someone shouting for a medic.
"Three... three dead, four injured, one severely."
"Shit... Who...?"
"Mikael, Jose... and Michael. Michael took five AK slugs to the chest while he was dragging Lisa out the door to retreat. Jaime, Lisa, and Andy are in the hos, they'll make it, and Jane... Jane... they say she won't make it through the night. The rest of Charlie's in the hos with them."
"Goddamn." Chris took a second to compose himself. Jill, who was standing next to him, saw the expression on his face and knew instantly it was bad news. She held her hands to her heart and made eye contact with Chris, who had just slammed his fist down on the table the phone sat on. Jill held his hand, caressing it; it's never easy to lose a soldier, especially for the Captain; the lives of those under his command were his responsibility. Claire, who was walking by on her way outside to get ready, stopped and listened with Jill.
Jill didn't know what Chris had just heard, but she knew it couldn't have been good. The one thing she had learned from her escape from Raccoon and her battles against Umbrella was that the unexpected does, no, will occur. It couldn't have been more true; five minutes ago Chris had a bandanna of socks around his head, now he had been thrust back into his duty, forced to take up arms and fight for lives... she squeezed Chris' hand slightly as he continued his conversation with Barry.
This was why she never listened to the weatherman on t.v.; who can predict what will happen five seconds from now, let alone what the weather will be like in five days?
"Have they made any demands, Barry?"
"Several. One, the release of their leader, who's in prison, sentenced to life for five counts of first-degree murder. Two, half a billion dollars in cash, and three, safe passage to a neutral country. The said they'd start executing the hostages one by one for every hour that passes by until they meet their demands."
"Any retaliation for Charlie's sortie?"
"They...." Barry said, weakly and softly, "those bastards executed a hostage, a diplomat from some Eastern country. My.... my fault, Chris."
"No.. no it wasn't. You tried to save them, Barry. Don't dwell on this. We'll be there very soon... stay calm and maintain operation status."
"I... I'll try." Barry said, before they hung up. Chris was worried about Barry. He had never heard Barry this... this weakened, was the word he found. Maybe it was because this was the first time Barry had ever failed a mission; even back before the Spencer Mansion incident, Barry had a perfect track record.
Chris turned from the phone to find Claire and Jill looking at him with wide, almost teary eyes. They had read the email Barry had sent, and knew there were casualties... now Chris was about to tell them which ones of their friends were dead.
"Mikael," Chris began, softly, "Jose, and Michael. Lisa may not make it."
Immediately Jill brought both hands to her mouth, and Claire physically reeled back, as if actually hit with a punch or something to the stomach. She stared at Chris with those large brown eyes of hers, as if pleading Chris to say that it wasn't so. Sadly, though, as much as Chris wanted to, he couldn't.
Chris took his sister in his arms and stroked her hair softly, as she heard her cry audibly into his shoulder. His sister wasn't one for outward feelings of sadness... but obviously losing someone close can have a greater impact and carry a greater pain than the power of the greatest gun or the sharpest blade.
Jill took a minute by herself, composing her thoughts. She had lost comrades before, yes. But that was during the entire Umbrella incident, when she had no time to mourn; her own life was in danger 24-7. But now, after the entire mess, she had time to get to know those who fought with her. During the crusade it was a rag-tag army that brought down Umbrella. Now, with a small team of around twenty around her, she had time to get to know these people, and thus the fact that they were gone... it had almost as much of an impact as the Spencer Mansion did. Almost.
Images of these four revolved around in her mind. Jose was a bright soldier, not the greatest physical specimen but he had the determination, that un-nameable driving force that all great officers and soldier had. Not to mention that he could hit a penny on a wall from miles away... with not a sniper rifle, but with an MP5 submachine gun; he was that good of a shot, and he challenged and beat Chris several times at marksmanship contests. Michael was a new recruit, recently promoted from the S.W.A.T. team, so she didn't get to know him very much, but Mikael... Mikael...
"Mikael's son is going into kindergarten next year...." She found herself saying out loud. She looked at Chris, who opened his arm for her. She joined the Redfields in a sad hug. Normally, Chris would have urged them to get their act together; there was time for mourning afterwards, but now other lives were on the line.
He admonished himself, however. That was the old Chris thinking, the one desensitized to the loss of comrades following the Umbrella crusade, where his comrades died almost every week and him himself spilt blood and had his own split before him. The old Chris would have urged the two women in his arms to get outside on the double, to get on with their lives and perform their duties. There would always be time to mourn later...
But he didn't do so now. He wasn't that old Chris anymore. He tightened his grip around the two most important women in his life, as if wishing to take away their suffering, absorb it into his own body. He felt the same sadness as well. It's never easy for a officer to lose a soldier. He felt a tear begin to form in his eye, for these four were the first he had ever lost as the offical Captain of S.T.A.R.S.
They needed time to mourn, and Chris would give it to them.
* * *
A short chopper ride and a couple of minutes later landed Chris and the rest of Alpha Team at the Area of Operations. The place was a bustle of squad cars and local law enforcement, and here, there, and everywhere the odd policeperson or policepeople ran about on their errands. A short look around revealed police personnel with the standard 9mm pistols and Benelli pump-action shotguns along with the odd rifle, all trained on the entrance of the building in which the terrorists held the hostages. Around the AO was the usual throng of media and a few curious onlookers hoping to get something on tape to send to Real TV.
Chris tapped the shoulder of the man who looked to be in charge. He was a fat, chubby man, with a cigar in his mouth, and he was shouting orders to a squad of policemen who hurried off to do his bidding. His kevlar vest covered maybe half of his chest; he was that round.
"Are you the commanding officer here?" Chris asked.
"Yeah. The hell do you want?" he asked, rudely.
"I'm with the S.T.A.-"
"I don't give a shit which newspaper you're writing for, this is a strictly police area! How did you get in here? Watkins! Get these goons outta here!" The fat man motioned to an officer nearby, who walked towards Chris and began to try to escort him out past the yellow police tape.
"Hey! I'm with the S.T.-" Chris began, as the officer began to forcefully move him.
"No, you listen, boy! This is a police operation! That means no reporters, no matter-"
"No, you listen, fat ass!" Chris stormed, his patented Redfield temper rising to the fore. Jill and Claire, who were nearby, saw it coming from a mile away. Chris moved so he was within inches of the fat man's face.
"My name is Captain Christopher Redfield," he began, "and I'm the commanding officer of the Special Tactics And Rescue Squad. A military unit. You will give a superior commanding military officer a salute!"
The fat man quickly brought up a salute; he was visibly shaking. Chris had frightened him.
"And you will give me your respect!," Chris demanded, "And you will not address a superior officer by the name 'boy', you get that? Are we communicating-" he took a moment to read the fat man's name plate, "Officer Norwood??"
The fat man looked visibly shakened. "Y... Yes, sir." he answered.
"Alright then."
* * *
"-and that's the situation," Norwood finished. "We have several options, and only 23:04 until the next hour deadline. The first is for a rear-entry into the building, then an assault on the terrorist position. The second-"
"That's enough. I know all I need to know."
...Chris said, cutting Officer Norwood off. The two, along with Leon, were studying a blueprint of the building that was spread out on the hood of a squad car. Several minutes had passed since their first meeting, and the S.T.A.R.S. had taken this opportunity to get fully outfitted in their operational gear.
Chris turned to Leon.
"Leon, I want us saddled up in that APC, ready for a rear-entry, Pattern Echo to the door, then Pattern Maverick once we're inside. You and Carlos on point. Bring Hunk over here. Move."
Leon offered a quick salute and hurried off to organise the Alpha Team, which was anxiously awaiting their orders. Barry, despite Beccy's repeated warnings that he wasn't up to operational status, had remained and forcefully convinced Chris to let him into the next operation, refusing to go to the hospital with the rest of Charlie. Barry wasn't one to leave things unfinished, and he obviously had a bone to pick with the terrorists. This left Alpha with eleven men and women, an odd number, which Chris was quick to balance. He turned to Norwood.
"Who's your best sniper? How good are they?"
"Officer Kiera Christienson. She's the best goddamn shot there is in the whole county. She can hit a penny on a wall from a hundred yards away." Norwood stated with pride, bringing his thumbs to his belt. A female officer holding a high-powered Steyr Scout sniper rifle came running up, and upon seeing that Chris was military, offered him a salute.
"Not good enough. My man can hit it from two hundred."
Hunk came running over, offering a salute which Chris returned.
"Sir?" Hunk asked, removing his blast helmet and running a hand through his blonde hair. Like Chris, Jill, and half the S.T.A.R.S., Hunk was also a survivor of Umbrella's treachery and had fought with them to bring down the organization he once worked for.
"Hunk, I want you... on that roof," Chris said, pointing to a distant rooftop, where he would have a good vantage point of all the happenings inside the building through the windows, which were wide; the building was an art museum, after all. "If I give you the green light, fire at will at any and all targets."
"Understood, sir."
"Good. Take this. Dismissed. Move."
Chris grabbed the sniper rifle out of the woman's hands and into Hunk's. He saluted, turned, and was on his way to the roof.
* * *
Beccy adjusted her helmet, as the last bump the APC ran over moved it over her eyes. After successfully adjusting it, she could see again, just in time to stop her MP5 from falling on the floor. She looked around; thankfully, no one had noticed it.
A hand came to her gloved one, which stroked and caressed it.
"Be calm, chica." Carlos said, who was sitting next to her. He offered her a smile, before taking a clip for his M4a1 carbine out of his utility vest. He studied the magazine carefully, making sure it was free of any dirt which could potentially cause a misfire.
The ten men and women of Alpha team, plus Barry and minus Hunk, sped in the APC around the block to the back ot the art museum and the entrance they were about to bust into. Chris looked around and surveyed the team one more time.
They were in full battle gear with full weaponry. It was a mix of weapons perfectly suited for every member's role within the squad, while being flexible enough to handle any surprises which may come up. Each one was extensively modified and customized by it's bearer. The S.T.A.R.S. had access to some high class, cutting edge weaponry, but they often shunned it in favor of weapons that they had grown to love and had modified and customized themselves.
Leon and Claire sat opposite each other, gripping their weapons loosely and making last minute preparations. Jill sat opposite Chris, and was looking down the sight of her own FN P90 submachine gun. This was an excellent example of the weapon being suited for the bearer's role; Jill's role was as a point man, and the fifty round magazine of the P90 meant that she could stay in point longer without having to reload.
Her intense eyes looked down the submachinegun's length, making sure the sighting was perfect. Nothing less than perfect for her.
Barry, the Old Wolf, sat next to Jill. This was a covert operation, and since his Colt made quite the big bang, Barry had to reluctantly trade in his Colt for an M4a1 as well. He still kept his Colt as his primary sidearm, however, and had a standard-issue Benelli shotgun strapped to his back "just in case." Barry was always a fan of big bang weapons, and the Benelli made quite the bang.
"Alright team," Chris said, giving his usual pre-operation talk, "get ready. Stay close, stay fresh, stay frosty. Lock and load."
With the ease and quickness afforded by long months and years of training, the ten men and women loaded their weapons with a click, and then took the safeties off. Chris hammered home a magazine of his own extensively customized M4a1, and slid the safety back. His gaze met Jill's. Before every mission they shared their customary handshake, which was to hit fists and then turn them so they were horizontal. They did this, and gave each other a smile.
This time was different, however. This was the first operation that the two were going into as a couple... and although the mission was the first thing on their minds, the safety of the other was looming in the back of their consciousness. Chris took Jill's hand in his own after they locked fists, and held it. He gave her a smile.
"Too bad I don't have your bandanna... I could use infinite ammo."
Jill giggled, as Chris went over the final radio callsign checks.
"Alpha One, comm-link check."
"Alpha 1-2, ready, Jill here."
"Alpha 1-3, ready, Barry here."
"Alpha 1-4, ready, Ken here."
"Alpha 1-5, ready, Eliza here."
"Alpha 1-1, ready. This is Chris. Alpha One is ready." Chris finished.
Leon did the same with his fire-team, and the five men and women under his command checked in in the same fashion as Chris' fire-team did.
"Alpha 2-1, ready. Leon here. Alpha Two is ready, Alpha 1-1." Leon added.
"This is Alpha 1-1, do you read, Big Poppa Zero? Over."
"Loud and Clear, Alpha 1-1, we read. Over." Norwood replied, back at the outside field headquarters.
"Alpha Zero is approaching the Alpha Oscar, preparing to deploy, Over."
"Acknowledged, over. Good luck."
"Alpha Zero doesn't need luck, Big Poppa Zero. Over."
Chris heard something of a grumble on the other side, and cut off the comm-link. It was time. He stood up, and, taking his M4, he held it so it's butt was upwards and it's barrel pointing to the ground. He held it to his chest. The team copied the motion with their own weapons. Chris spoke in a clear and reverent voice:
"For our fallen S.T.A.R.S.!"
"For our fallen S.T.A.R.S.!" the team echoed.
Moments later the APC lurched to a stop. Chris hurled open the hatch doors, and hopped outside.
"Go! Go! Go!"
Author's Note:
Again, i apologize for the extremely long wait inbetween chapters, but something got in the way.. what was it again? life. haha... anyways, here's the new chapter, hope you guys liked it.. I realise the S.T.A.R.S. having to go off on a mission in the middle of their vacation broke up the flow of the story somewhat, but this is mainly just to show how their jobs could come calling at any time... they are an anti-terrorist squad after all. Plus, it sets everything up for Chapter fourteen and the eventual conclusion to the Forever saga! stay tuned
~hustler one
-chapter thirteen
I feel my wings have broken in your hands
I feel the words unspoken inside
And they pull you under
And I would give you anything you want
You were all I wanted
All my dreams have fallen down
Crawl around
Somebody save me
Break right through
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it
Just save, save, come on
I've been waiting for you
Somebody save me...
~remy zero, "save me"
"Chris Redfield, you've sunk to a new low."
...Claire Redfield said, as she watched her brother gleefully fit himself underneath the cardboard refridgerator box he had produced from downstairs. Chris, underneath the box, moved around as if to test out the manuverability of his new vehicle. He moved around underneath the cardboard box surprisingly well.
"This is a self contained tactical camoflague reconnaisance vehicle, Claire. An S.C.T.C.R.V. for short. I'm sorry if lesser minds such as yourself can't grasp such concepts." Chris said, turning the box and looking at his sister through the slit in the box. His voice was muffled somewhat by the cardboard, but Claire got the most of what he was saying.
"Lesser minds? Who's underneath the box pretending to be a video game character and acting like a four year old?" she retorted.
"Look sis, do you wanna find out what Beccy and Carlos are talking about or not? This way you can find out what they're saying, plus me and Leon here get some training in tactical espionage."
Claire bit her lip. She did want to know what the would-be couple were talking about.. it was gossip, afterall, and Claire Redfield thrived on gossip.
"You'll never get close enough to hear what they're saying without them catching you." Jill said. She went up to the box and gave it a small kick, sending the cardboard box flying and revealing Chris underneath in the prone position, looking through where his self named "tactical vision display" was several seconds ago. Really, it was that slit in the box used for lifting it easily.
Chris looked up at his girlfriend for several seconds.
"Look, it's either we make an attempt to amuse ourselves and try to see what Carlos and Beccy are talking about on the porch downstairs, or we sit here in this study for god knows how long while those two talk it out, passing around a blitzball until eventually we die of boredom. Now please, stop kicking my tactical camoflague reconaissance vehicle around, it has several delicate electronic components."
"He has a point. I've been hit by that beachball enough." Leon stated. He had put the miniature earpiece Chris tossed him several seconds ago into his ear. Claire tried to find it in his ear, but couldn't; it was that small.
"All right..." Jill began in her most 'official' voice, "but me and Claire officially wash ourselves clean of this stupid plan. If Carlos and Beccy find out you two are eavesdropping on their personal conversation, I'm personally declaring right here and now that I have nothing to do with it, and therefore cannot provide support in the possibility of retaliation from the victims of your stupid plan. Capish? You with me, Claire? Claire?"
Jill looked around, expecting the younger Redfield to agree with her in dismissing Chris' plan as being childish and intruding on the others' privacy. She turned to find that Claire had already set up Chris' laptop to work as the receiver for the communicators and was testing out the frequencies with Chris.
Jill hung her head and slouched her shoulders. Where could she find some mature people to hang around with?
* * *
"Snoopy? What the hell kinda callsign is Snoopy?"
"Don't ask me, Leon. Claire gave it to you."
"But Snoopy? What the? At least you get a cool callsign.. why not me?"
"Because I made mine up. I think Jill's callsign's pretty cool... Deepthroat One."
"Deepthroat One huh? sounds like what Jill did to you to get you in this happy mood all of a sudde-"
Leon couldn't quite f inish his sentence when Chris turned around inside the box and gave him a solid punch to the shoulder. Both of the guys were inside the refridgerator box Chris had produced. He also went through the mind-racking process of picking an operation name, and after much deliberation, came up with the name "Operation Cardboard Box."
After a best of thirty-seven rock-paper-scissors tournament, Chris had won the priviliage of going first into the box and thus being able to use the Tactical Vison Slit. Leon, being the loser, was forced to take the rear position, where his movement and vision was severly limited by Chris' behind.
After several minutes of testing out the movement and agility of their vehicle, Operation Cardboard Box was officially underway, and the two eventually made their way to the kitchen, just a few feet from the door that led to the porch where Beccy and Carlos sat. They thought they made enough noise falling down the stairs after Leon zigged when Chris zagged, but they fortunately didn't cause enough noise to alert Beccy and Carlos.
"Be quiet, retard. That's the purpose of this being a covert operation."
"Covert operation, bah. We're two grown guys inside a fricking cardboard box trying to eavesdrop on our friends' conversation. It's as covert as you and Jill were last night."
"Goddamn, does everyone know about that?"
"No shit, sherlock."
"Silence, young Raiden."
"And that's another thing!" Leon began, annoyance rising in his hushed voice underneath the box, "why do you get to be Solid Snake? Raiden's a loser."
"Which is why you're Raiden! And besides," Chris pointed to his forehead, where Jill had tied on a makeshift bandanna made from her black socks, "I've got infinite ammo."
"Bah."
Chris, a smile appearing on his face knowing that he had bested his younger comrade once again, tapped the communicator behind his ear once, opening up the comm-link to Claire upstairs.
"This is Snake. Do you read, Deepthroat One?"
"Loud and Clear, over." Jill's voice said, clearly and smoothly on the other end.
"Roger that, Deepthroat One. Objective One complete, the "Delivery Box" is at Waypoint Alpha. Operation integrity and security are still at optimum levels. The S.C.T.C.R.V. is performing at Level Cypher-Six-Ghost. A minor fall down the stairs did not damage the vehicle's exterior integrity. Moving on to Objective Two, entering exterior portions of the Alpha Oscar (Area of Operations). Sector Bravo is within sight, moving to Waypoint Bravo.... now, over."
"What?" Jill said.
"We're going outside now, Jill." Leon clarified.
"Ahhh. Roger that, Snake. Confirmed completion of Objective One. Moving on to Objective Two and Waypoint Bravo. Good luck, over."
"Roger that, Deepthroat One. Over and out."
With that, Chris nodded to Leon. After several seconds of trying to cooridinate their movements, they finally began to move towards the general direction of the door and the porch beyond. Leon, obviously not liking his position in the rear of the box, had to make a comment.
"You need to give Jenny a call, Chris. You know, Mrs. Craig."
"Maintain noise discipline, Snoopy!"
Chris kicked backward with one of his feet for emphasis, hitting Leon in the forehead. Leon growled and continued to move on. Chris smiled in the box; he had bested his younger comrade once again. With some satisfaction evident in the Captain's face, he moved the box forward. He was within two feet of the door...
"This is Snake. Do you read, Deepthroat One?"
"Loud and clear."
"The S.C.T.C.R.V. is now two feet from the door leading to Sector Bravo and Waypoint Bravo. We are now within door opening range. Employing the Pandora....now. Is the Pandora ready, Snoopy?"
"The device is ready, Snake."
Chris reached backward within the box, where Leon placed the hyper- advanced-technology gadget in his hand. It was really just a bunch of spare chopsticks and plastic utensils taped together to form a long rod with a coat hanger hook at the end to open the door with, but like everything else involved in the operation, Chris wanted to give it a callsign and thus christened it the "Pandora."
"This is Snake. I have the Pandora. Extending the device.... now."
Chris poked the device out of the Tactical Vision Slit, and was reaching for the door...
Only to have the door open while he was poking at the handle. Immediately, he withdrew the device back into the box and gave Leon a pat on the head, the signal that they were in danger of being captured, and to stay completely still.
Chris watched as the door he was poking at several seconds before swung open to reveal the form of Rebecca, followed closely by Carlos.
"Hey, this box wasn't here when we went outside, was it, honey?"
* * *
"Geez, I can't believe we're doing this. I mean, we're all grown adults, and we have to resort to using a cardboard box to eavesdrop on what our friends outside are doing. And to top it all off, my mature boyfriend, the Captain of a world-class anti-terrorist squad no less, is in that box."
"Shaddup, Jill. Even soldiers need to have some fun every once in a while." Claire retorted. Jill was fiddling with Chris' laptop, waiting for the boys downstairs to check in next. Claire was sitting on the ground, tossing the blitzball against the wall and back to her anxiously waiting for the boys' next check-in.
After several seconds of silence, the familiar "beep beep dong" of Chris' MSN alerting him he had received a new email rang out. Jill clicked on it.
"You know Jill, peeking at my brother's email is rude."
"And what do you call sneaking downstairs to eavesdrop on Carlos and Beccy?"
"Touche."
"I thought so," Jill said, as she began to browse the email's contents. Soon, her brows furrowed as she pored over the document. A look of shock crossed her face. Several seconds later, she darted up from her seat and ran downstairs.
Claire was completely surprised by Jill's actions, and moved to the laptop to find out what had caused her to rush downstairs. After several seconds of staring at the screen, she read the words out loud just to make sure she was actually seeing them:
"Attention: S.T.A.R.S. Captain Christopher Redfield: Your services are required at Home Base. A situation is underway which requires your squad's expertise, repeat, urgent, urgent, urgent..."
* * *
"Chris! Chris! Chris!" Jill shouted, screaming and dashing down the stairs. She found Carlos and Beccy, hand in hand, poking at the S.C.T.C.R.V. with a kitchen knife.
"Chris!" Jill said one more time. She rushed to the box and kicked it, getting a "ouch!" from Leon inside and sending the box flying, revealing the two grown men in the prone position, Leon clutching his side.
"Did you have to kick so hard!?" Leon said, grimacing.
Chris immediately sushed the both of them, bringing a finger to his lips.
"Shut up! They'll hear us..." Chris said, a wide smile on his face, pointing to where Beccy and Carlos stood looking quizzically at the two who were in the box. His sock bandanna hung in his eyes, giving him the appearance of a boy who had just gone berserk in his dad's sock drawer.
"No, you shut up! There's something important you need to see upstairs.. it has to do with Bravo; they went to investigate a hostage situation but the tangoes gave them some competition and now they've been forced to retreat. Barry says you should call him cuz there's been casualt- " Jill was trying to say too many things at once, and Chris got up and held on to her shoulders to try to get her to speak at a rate that human beings could understand.
"Hold on, hold on, Jill. Now what's happened?"
Jill took several breaths to calm herself. Claire came down from upstairs, with the same tense look Jill held. After several seconds, Jill looked straight at Chris with an emotion in her eyes Chris hadn't seen since the last time they were out in the field.
"Our vacation's over."
* * *
"What?" Leon questioned, "I don't believe this, we finally get some vacation time, in a frickin mansion, no less, and we get called back for active duty. One word comes to mind-"
"BAH." Carlos finished.
"Shut up. Our duty comes before pleasure, boys." Chris said, getting his younger and somewhat less mature (at least, to Chris) comrades in check. "Now Jill," he continued, "get me a phone and get Barry on it; I want a full operation run-down from him. Carlos and Leon, contact S.T.A.R.S. base and get a chopper out here a.s.a.p., then get it primed. Claire, fix this place up in case we don't get an opportunity to get back before this thing finishes. Beccy, get on the horn with the S.T.A.R.S. base, tell them to get all our OP gear ready, I want full operation status on our equipment. Everyone outside and saddled up in ten minutes. Let's move!"
...Chris finished, rapidly issuing orders and watching as his team, albeit with the odd grumble at the abrupt end to their vacation, hurried off to do as their Captain ordered them. He too disliked the prospect of having to do an operation when seconds ago he had been having quite the fun time, but he knew above all other people that his duty came first. And his duty was an important one; saving lives.
Jill called to him, and he picked up the phone. Barry was on the other line, but his voice was somewhat different; he seemed tired and out of breath. Around Barry on the other side of the line Chris could hear the general noise involved with an operation, such as police sirens and people talking about what they should do next.
"Barry? What the hell is going on?"
"Shit... Listen Chris, we were called down to a minor hostage situation downtown. Some delegates from the international community, diplomats, presidents, prime ministers and what-not are in town for an anti- terrorist conference. At around 5:30 a group of armed and pretty damn well organized terrorists busted in and started taking hostages."
"Any casualties?"
"That's the thing; at least twenty confirmed dead. All civilians... These bastards aren't fooling around."
"Any ID on the terrorists?"
"Partially. They're a European Fundamentalist group called the 'Phoenix Connexion.' These guys aren't your average rag-tag group of terrorists, though, they're well trained and well armed. Anyways, the cops called us in, and we deployed...." Barry's voice trailed off, as if he was unsure of what to say.
"And? What happened to Charlie, Barry?"
"We.... we were... hit hard. It's wierd; they seemed like they knew exactly what we were doing and when we were gonna do it. We went for a standard rear-guard entrance, Pattern Bravo-Five-Zero, but they were waiting... Nothing we could do but fire blindly at them and make a retreat with our wounded."
"Any... any Charlie casualties, Barry?" Chris hesitated to ask. Barry took several seconds before answering. In the background Chris could hear someone shouting for a medic.
"Three... three dead, four injured, one severely."
"Shit... Who...?"
"Mikael, Jose... and Michael. Michael took five AK slugs to the chest while he was dragging Lisa out the door to retreat. Jaime, Lisa, and Andy are in the hos, they'll make it, and Jane... Jane... they say she won't make it through the night. The rest of Charlie's in the hos with them."
"Goddamn." Chris took a second to compose himself. Jill, who was standing next to him, saw the expression on his face and knew instantly it was bad news. She held her hands to her heart and made eye contact with Chris, who had just slammed his fist down on the table the phone sat on. Jill held his hand, caressing it; it's never easy to lose a soldier, especially for the Captain; the lives of those under his command were his responsibility. Claire, who was walking by on her way outside to get ready, stopped and listened with Jill.
Jill didn't know what Chris had just heard, but she knew it couldn't have been good. The one thing she had learned from her escape from Raccoon and her battles against Umbrella was that the unexpected does, no, will occur. It couldn't have been more true; five minutes ago Chris had a bandanna of socks around his head, now he had been thrust back into his duty, forced to take up arms and fight for lives... she squeezed Chris' hand slightly as he continued his conversation with Barry.
This was why she never listened to the weatherman on t.v.; who can predict what will happen five seconds from now, let alone what the weather will be like in five days?
"Have they made any demands, Barry?"
"Several. One, the release of their leader, who's in prison, sentenced to life for five counts of first-degree murder. Two, half a billion dollars in cash, and three, safe passage to a neutral country. The said they'd start executing the hostages one by one for every hour that passes by until they meet their demands."
"Any retaliation for Charlie's sortie?"
"They...." Barry said, weakly and softly, "those bastards executed a hostage, a diplomat from some Eastern country. My.... my fault, Chris."
"No.. no it wasn't. You tried to save them, Barry. Don't dwell on this. We'll be there very soon... stay calm and maintain operation status."
"I... I'll try." Barry said, before they hung up. Chris was worried about Barry. He had never heard Barry this... this weakened, was the word he found. Maybe it was because this was the first time Barry had ever failed a mission; even back before the Spencer Mansion incident, Barry had a perfect track record.
Chris turned from the phone to find Claire and Jill looking at him with wide, almost teary eyes. They had read the email Barry had sent, and knew there were casualties... now Chris was about to tell them which ones of their friends were dead.
"Mikael," Chris began, softly, "Jose, and Michael. Lisa may not make it."
Immediately Jill brought both hands to her mouth, and Claire physically reeled back, as if actually hit with a punch or something to the stomach. She stared at Chris with those large brown eyes of hers, as if pleading Chris to say that it wasn't so. Sadly, though, as much as Chris wanted to, he couldn't.
Chris took his sister in his arms and stroked her hair softly, as she heard her cry audibly into his shoulder. His sister wasn't one for outward feelings of sadness... but obviously losing someone close can have a greater impact and carry a greater pain than the power of the greatest gun or the sharpest blade.
Jill took a minute by herself, composing her thoughts. She had lost comrades before, yes. But that was during the entire Umbrella incident, when she had no time to mourn; her own life was in danger 24-7. But now, after the entire mess, she had time to get to know those who fought with her. During the crusade it was a rag-tag army that brought down Umbrella. Now, with a small team of around twenty around her, she had time to get to know these people, and thus the fact that they were gone... it had almost as much of an impact as the Spencer Mansion did. Almost.
Images of these four revolved around in her mind. Jose was a bright soldier, not the greatest physical specimen but he had the determination, that un-nameable driving force that all great officers and soldier had. Not to mention that he could hit a penny on a wall from miles away... with not a sniper rifle, but with an MP5 submachine gun; he was that good of a shot, and he challenged and beat Chris several times at marksmanship contests. Michael was a new recruit, recently promoted from the S.W.A.T. team, so she didn't get to know him very much, but Mikael... Mikael...
"Mikael's son is going into kindergarten next year...." She found herself saying out loud. She looked at Chris, who opened his arm for her. She joined the Redfields in a sad hug. Normally, Chris would have urged them to get their act together; there was time for mourning afterwards, but now other lives were on the line.
He admonished himself, however. That was the old Chris thinking, the one desensitized to the loss of comrades following the Umbrella crusade, where his comrades died almost every week and him himself spilt blood and had his own split before him. The old Chris would have urged the two women in his arms to get outside on the double, to get on with their lives and perform their duties. There would always be time to mourn later...
But he didn't do so now. He wasn't that old Chris anymore. He tightened his grip around the two most important women in his life, as if wishing to take away their suffering, absorb it into his own body. He felt the same sadness as well. It's never easy for a officer to lose a soldier. He felt a tear begin to form in his eye, for these four were the first he had ever lost as the offical Captain of S.T.A.R.S.
They needed time to mourn, and Chris would give it to them.
* * *
A short chopper ride and a couple of minutes later landed Chris and the rest of Alpha Team at the Area of Operations. The place was a bustle of squad cars and local law enforcement, and here, there, and everywhere the odd policeperson or policepeople ran about on their errands. A short look around revealed police personnel with the standard 9mm pistols and Benelli pump-action shotguns along with the odd rifle, all trained on the entrance of the building in which the terrorists held the hostages. Around the AO was the usual throng of media and a few curious onlookers hoping to get something on tape to send to Real TV.
Chris tapped the shoulder of the man who looked to be in charge. He was a fat, chubby man, with a cigar in his mouth, and he was shouting orders to a squad of policemen who hurried off to do his bidding. His kevlar vest covered maybe half of his chest; he was that round.
"Are you the commanding officer here?" Chris asked.
"Yeah. The hell do you want?" he asked, rudely.
"I'm with the S.T.A.-"
"I don't give a shit which newspaper you're writing for, this is a strictly police area! How did you get in here? Watkins! Get these goons outta here!" The fat man motioned to an officer nearby, who walked towards Chris and began to try to escort him out past the yellow police tape.
"Hey! I'm with the S.T.-" Chris began, as the officer began to forcefully move him.
"No, you listen, boy! This is a police operation! That means no reporters, no matter-"
"No, you listen, fat ass!" Chris stormed, his patented Redfield temper rising to the fore. Jill and Claire, who were nearby, saw it coming from a mile away. Chris moved so he was within inches of the fat man's face.
"My name is Captain Christopher Redfield," he began, "and I'm the commanding officer of the Special Tactics And Rescue Squad. A military unit. You will give a superior commanding military officer a salute!"
The fat man quickly brought up a salute; he was visibly shaking. Chris had frightened him.
"And you will give me your respect!," Chris demanded, "And you will not address a superior officer by the name 'boy', you get that? Are we communicating-" he took a moment to read the fat man's name plate, "Officer Norwood??"
The fat man looked visibly shakened. "Y... Yes, sir." he answered.
"Alright then."
* * *
"-and that's the situation," Norwood finished. "We have several options, and only 23:04 until the next hour deadline. The first is for a rear-entry into the building, then an assault on the terrorist position. The second-"
"That's enough. I know all I need to know."
...Chris said, cutting Officer Norwood off. The two, along with Leon, were studying a blueprint of the building that was spread out on the hood of a squad car. Several minutes had passed since their first meeting, and the S.T.A.R.S. had taken this opportunity to get fully outfitted in their operational gear.
Chris turned to Leon.
"Leon, I want us saddled up in that APC, ready for a rear-entry, Pattern Echo to the door, then Pattern Maverick once we're inside. You and Carlos on point. Bring Hunk over here. Move."
Leon offered a quick salute and hurried off to organise the Alpha Team, which was anxiously awaiting their orders. Barry, despite Beccy's repeated warnings that he wasn't up to operational status, had remained and forcefully convinced Chris to let him into the next operation, refusing to go to the hospital with the rest of Charlie. Barry wasn't one to leave things unfinished, and he obviously had a bone to pick with the terrorists. This left Alpha with eleven men and women, an odd number, which Chris was quick to balance. He turned to Norwood.
"Who's your best sniper? How good are they?"
"Officer Kiera Christienson. She's the best goddamn shot there is in the whole county. She can hit a penny on a wall from a hundred yards away." Norwood stated with pride, bringing his thumbs to his belt. A female officer holding a high-powered Steyr Scout sniper rifle came running up, and upon seeing that Chris was military, offered him a salute.
"Not good enough. My man can hit it from two hundred."
Hunk came running over, offering a salute which Chris returned.
"Sir?" Hunk asked, removing his blast helmet and running a hand through his blonde hair. Like Chris, Jill, and half the S.T.A.R.S., Hunk was also a survivor of Umbrella's treachery and had fought with them to bring down the organization he once worked for.
"Hunk, I want you... on that roof," Chris said, pointing to a distant rooftop, where he would have a good vantage point of all the happenings inside the building through the windows, which were wide; the building was an art museum, after all. "If I give you the green light, fire at will at any and all targets."
"Understood, sir."
"Good. Take this. Dismissed. Move."
Chris grabbed the sniper rifle out of the woman's hands and into Hunk's. He saluted, turned, and was on his way to the roof.
* * *
Beccy adjusted her helmet, as the last bump the APC ran over moved it over her eyes. After successfully adjusting it, she could see again, just in time to stop her MP5 from falling on the floor. She looked around; thankfully, no one had noticed it.
A hand came to her gloved one, which stroked and caressed it.
"Be calm, chica." Carlos said, who was sitting next to her. He offered her a smile, before taking a clip for his M4a1 carbine out of his utility vest. He studied the magazine carefully, making sure it was free of any dirt which could potentially cause a misfire.
The ten men and women of Alpha team, plus Barry and minus Hunk, sped in the APC around the block to the back ot the art museum and the entrance they were about to bust into. Chris looked around and surveyed the team one more time.
They were in full battle gear with full weaponry. It was a mix of weapons perfectly suited for every member's role within the squad, while being flexible enough to handle any surprises which may come up. Each one was extensively modified and customized by it's bearer. The S.T.A.R.S. had access to some high class, cutting edge weaponry, but they often shunned it in favor of weapons that they had grown to love and had modified and customized themselves.
Leon and Claire sat opposite each other, gripping their weapons loosely and making last minute preparations. Jill sat opposite Chris, and was looking down the sight of her own FN P90 submachine gun. This was an excellent example of the weapon being suited for the bearer's role; Jill's role was as a point man, and the fifty round magazine of the P90 meant that she could stay in point longer without having to reload.
Her intense eyes looked down the submachinegun's length, making sure the sighting was perfect. Nothing less than perfect for her.
Barry, the Old Wolf, sat next to Jill. This was a covert operation, and since his Colt made quite the big bang, Barry had to reluctantly trade in his Colt for an M4a1 as well. He still kept his Colt as his primary sidearm, however, and had a standard-issue Benelli shotgun strapped to his back "just in case." Barry was always a fan of big bang weapons, and the Benelli made quite the bang.
"Alright team," Chris said, giving his usual pre-operation talk, "get ready. Stay close, stay fresh, stay frosty. Lock and load."
With the ease and quickness afforded by long months and years of training, the ten men and women loaded their weapons with a click, and then took the safeties off. Chris hammered home a magazine of his own extensively customized M4a1, and slid the safety back. His gaze met Jill's. Before every mission they shared their customary handshake, which was to hit fists and then turn them so they were horizontal. They did this, and gave each other a smile.
This time was different, however. This was the first operation that the two were going into as a couple... and although the mission was the first thing on their minds, the safety of the other was looming in the back of their consciousness. Chris took Jill's hand in his own after they locked fists, and held it. He gave her a smile.
"Too bad I don't have your bandanna... I could use infinite ammo."
Jill giggled, as Chris went over the final radio callsign checks.
"Alpha One, comm-link check."
"Alpha 1-2, ready, Jill here."
"Alpha 1-3, ready, Barry here."
"Alpha 1-4, ready, Ken here."
"Alpha 1-5, ready, Eliza here."
"Alpha 1-1, ready. This is Chris. Alpha One is ready." Chris finished.
Leon did the same with his fire-team, and the five men and women under his command checked in in the same fashion as Chris' fire-team did.
"Alpha 2-1, ready. Leon here. Alpha Two is ready, Alpha 1-1." Leon added.
"This is Alpha 1-1, do you read, Big Poppa Zero? Over."
"Loud and Clear, Alpha 1-1, we read. Over." Norwood replied, back at the outside field headquarters.
"Alpha Zero is approaching the Alpha Oscar, preparing to deploy, Over."
"Acknowledged, over. Good luck."
"Alpha Zero doesn't need luck, Big Poppa Zero. Over."
Chris heard something of a grumble on the other side, and cut off the comm-link. It was time. He stood up, and, taking his M4, he held it so it's butt was upwards and it's barrel pointing to the ground. He held it to his chest. The team copied the motion with their own weapons. Chris spoke in a clear and reverent voice:
"For our fallen S.T.A.R.S.!"
"For our fallen S.T.A.R.S.!" the team echoed.
Moments later the APC lurched to a stop. Chris hurled open the hatch doors, and hopped outside.
"Go! Go! Go!"
Author's Note:
Again, i apologize for the extremely long wait inbetween chapters, but something got in the way.. what was it again? life. haha... anyways, here's the new chapter, hope you guys liked it.. I realise the S.T.A.R.S. having to go off on a mission in the middle of their vacation broke up the flow of the story somewhat, but this is mainly just to show how their jobs could come calling at any time... they are an anti-terrorist squad after all. Plus, it sets everything up for Chapter fourteen and the eventual conclusion to the Forever saga! stay tuned
~hustler one