Ace of Spades

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Resident Evil.

Introduction: Ace City, Spade County

Spade County was one of those places made infamous in story books and movies. A quietly tucked away town, it boasted an extremely low crime rate. Highlighted by rolling hills of emerald green, broad stretches of farmland, and several bordering forests of a dark, eerie nature, it was finally caped off with a heavy sky of pale sapphire blue. If you asked any teenager that lived there, they would tell you it was the most boring place on earth to grow up. Well, it was beautiful, but like most would say, was hardly the setting for any action-packed thriller.

Ace City could hardly be called a city. At the northernmost point of Spade County, it was nothing more than a small town with a population of 103 people. One hundred and three proud people, mind you. They often jested that they were "The Ace of Spades," the best in the deck. While the adults chuckled at this, the children could only roll their eyes and hope for a little excitement. It must be mentioned that people should be more detailed in what they wish for, for generalization could often have nasty results.

Prologue: Finch's Landing, 65 miles south of Ace city.

Nero Octavian leaned against the polished glass table on his lakeside home, his patience wearing thin from waiting. After readjusting his ebon gray tailored suit jacket once more, he lifted his wrist to read the time off of his golden watch. Late, he thought with a furrowed brow, like always. Pulling the cream colored envelope off of the table, he flipped through it once more, making sure everything was there, even though he already knew it was. Distantly, he heard the gravel shift on the driveway outside, confirming that his contact was finally here and pulling up. A car door slammed shut.

Pushing gently off the table, he slowly walked over to the glass doors, watching the fading rays of sunlight glisten gently on the lake. The evergreen trees beyond slowly grew dark and overshadowing. Overhead, several birds-finches, he noted-flew gracefully over the air before diving into the ocean of trees to return to their nests. As the day's light faded and the day began to come to an end, the forest seemed to only begin and come alive. Animal sounds crept through the walls and windows, slightly muffled.

The front door opened and closed with nothing more than a click, before footsteps echoed off the marble tiles in the main hallway. He felt the presence before he turned to look. One could always tell if eyes danced upon them, even from behind. One could always sense how the air became heavy when someone else entered. He heard how they moved, and settled into a chair beside the cold fireplace. A clink of a lighter, the flutter of a flame, the smell of sweet smoke. Nero turned around to face the fireplace, his face carefully drawn blank to mask any emotion.

"Good evening, Claudia."

The woman, Claudia, didn't say anything, but instead gave him a smile that revealed as much as it hid. A flame of wit flickered in her black eyes, the only light one could find there if they looked. She seemed strangely calm, seated there in his velvet chair, dressed in a finely tailored black suit to conform to her slender body. Studying her, Nero suddenly felt too old to be playing these games anymore. And he was. He gave 44 years to Umbrella; he gave away his youth, his life, and his marriage. His hair had faded to a sleek gray, his hazel gaze grew dull. It was time to retire; he was so tired of fighting for what he no longer wanted.

"I have your orders here," he said quietly, slowly placing his hand on the file on the glass table. "They're expecting you back in New York tomorrow at 10:30. I have taken care of your transportation; you will find a plane ticket in this folder, with a list of instructions you must follow carefully."

Looking away from her, he looked down at the file, contemplating silently. The Umbrella Corporation was virtually decimated; to the public, anyway. But the government was foolish to imagine that Umbrella was truly destroyed. The Head Researchers were already located in various parts of Europe, just waiting for their orders. There were only a few more loose ends to finish off until they could pick themselves up again. And Nero was here to tie off one of those loose ends. He would miss Finch's Landing, but his fate no longer rested here. Looking over at the fireplace, he was surprise to find that Claudia was no longer there.

"Miss Mayfair?" He called out gently, turning around to study the room.

"This is it, Mr. Octavian." Nero looked back around, surprised to see her on the opposite side of the table, holding the folder. Her words weren't a question, but merely a statement. No sure how to respond, he remained quiet. She had an interesting voice, with an indistinct accent. Like the rest of her, it was both eerie and alluring. She flipped the pages of the file with one light golden brown finger, apparently out of boredom or amusement. Perhaps both. Fearing that she was just wasting time, he cleared his throat.

"I suggest you start leaving, Miss Mayfair. You have only tonight." Remembering, then, he pulled a small cell phone from his pocket and set it down in the center of the table. "Compliments of Umbrella. You will be contacted through this phone and this phone only."

Arching one thin, dark eyebrow, she reached for the cell phone and pocketed it silently. Walking over to the glass doors, she studied the view, apparently thinking. Moving away from the table, he leaned against the fireplace mantel, just a few feet from the glass doors. It was growing steadily darker outside. Claudia reached her hands out and pulled the drapes shut gently. The room grew darker, lit now only by a small lamp.

"I'm surprised, Mr. Octavian, that a man such as yourself would allow the whole world to witness your life."

"At least someone would. A man such as myself, as you so delicately put it, rarely has someone to know of his existence," he said more curtly than he wished to.

"You are what you chose to be."

"I know," he said softly, wondering where she was going with this.

"Would you consider your life lived for the common good, Mr. Octavian?"

Nero chuckled in a bittersweet fashion. "Oh, Miss Mayfair you certainly have quite the sense of humor."

A shot rattled the walls as Nero fell to the floor with a loud thud. Coughing violently, he tasted blood. His hands trembled as they pressed against the blood wound. There was so much blood. There was no pain, just a sense of sharpness in the air. A veil filled the air like black smoke, clouding his vision. His head fell back, and then he knew no more.