Author's note: And here's chapter 3. Enjoy. Or you know, whatever. And for the lost, italicized paragraphs stand for recollections. It's up to you to figure out who is recollecting, which is like, something a gradeschooler could do.
Jano: Thanks man, well, not too crazy this chapter, but all hell is going to break loose soon enough.
Hotaru: I actually want to be an actor more than a director, but hey, not everything goes my way.
Samurai: Yeah, Wesker can seriously kick Chris' ass all over the place. But Leon against Chris, odds are, the bigger, more experienced guy jacked up on military training's gonna win.
SniperR: I might just go ahead and tease you by revealing who died at the end of the story. Or not. Yeah, Claire's got some mad skillz.
Chapter 3: "Return"
Leon watched the sun rise through the large, glass doors that led to the balcony of his condominium. Sitting at the edge of his bed, naked, much like his lover who was still fast asleep, Leon could not help but smile at the new day. For him, it was almost symbolic of the new life that they'd lead. He then slowly turned his head, gazing at the figure of the girl, on arm over her head, while the other holding a blanket nigh teasingly over her breasts. "…" With a soft sigh, Leon titled his body halfway, leaned down, and kissed Claire on her forehead. With that, he got up and headed for the shower, not noticing Claire's eyes slit open, as if trying not to be seen awake. She watched him walk into another room, and as he disappeared, a small, broken smile etched itself on her lips.
Claire wiped a tear from her eye as she drove through the street like a bat out of hell, occasionally glancing at the rear view mirror to see if anyone found the body she left behind. The pistol was sitting comfortably on the passenger seat, urging her to do more violence. There was a small splatter of blood that was determined to ruin the leather. "…" Her eyes glanced at the rearview mirror again, but this time, noticing the small, plastic rosary that was dangling on it. A good number of Catholics had some sort of religious icon in their vehicles as a sign of faith, but more commonly, as a pendant for safety. Something about the two intersecting lines began to hypnotize Claire, as if just by locking into it with her eyes, she could already touch something deeper, something much more than anyone could understand.
"I never knew you were…" Claire stared at the crucifix that hung on the wall, right above the wide plasma TV. "Yeah, well. Having that up there makes my conscience attack me whenever I have an inkling to watch porn." Leon joked, putting the finishing touches on their breakfast. She was still in bed, while he was clad in a white towel, having just finished showering. "By the way, I haven't stopped by to your place…say hello to Chris." Leon then mentioned, putting the plates on a tray, ready to serve them to Claire. "…Why do you need to do that?" she asked, her face suddenly changing, albeit subtly. "Well, he did save my life once…" Leon responded, setting down the tray on the bed. "Something wrong?" he asked, not needing to be the most empathic to sense Claire's dread.
With gritted teeth, Claire reached up and violently removed the rosary from the rearview mirror, throwing it to the backseat not a second after. "…" Her eyes once again fell on the pistol, her gaze shifting between the road and the sleek black plastic. Whereas religion gave her a sense of hope, the pistol gave her a choice of action. And it was in the passing light of fading lamps, dancing over the pistol like taunting devils that she found an answer to a question that she herself did not yet ask. Still, something unearthly, something not right, dawned on her, and for some reason, she knew that the only answer she could ever hope to have, was through the barrel of a gun.
"No word from Kevin." Aya reported, not afraid to show her concern to the commissioner. It was midnight, and they were back at the precinct, not even thinking about giving themselves the pleasure of rest until the case was over. "…Damn." The commissioner on the other hand, was not intent on losing his cool. "…What are the chances that he just decided to turn off his mobile?" he then asked, rubbing his temple, while his free hand trailed a golden letter opener on his table.
"He doesn't turn it off while having sex, commissioner." Aya responded, crossing her hands in front of her chest. "Oh. I disturbed you two that much?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"…Let's not…just…something went wrong. I feel it."
"And your emotions are not clouding your better judgement?"
"I do not trust her. Not with him. Not with anyone." Her response was quick, almost rehearsed. The commissioner did not spend any time to bring out such an observation to the discussion.
"I specifically asked Kevin to gain her trust. And if turning off his mobile phone is the way to do it, then let it be." He then argued, leaning back on his leather chair. "Like it or not, detective, this isn't about any of us. This is about Claire Redfield, and the answers that she's keeping from us." He then finished, an air of gravity reflective on his voice.
"…Sir."
"…" The commissioner let out a loud sigh, and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "Dispatch two cars, no sirens, have them watch Claire's condo and Kevin's home."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir." Aya responded, lighting up as she left to give the order.
"…And Aya!" he called, prompting the young detective to peek back into the office.
"…Don't let them know anything. Tell them that it's strictly a routine check on the safety of the residents." He then ordered, his voice low and stern. "…How long do we plan on keeping this a secret?" Aya asked.
"Enough people." He responded grimly, making Aya realize that he was a man who would do anything to control a situation if it ever got out of hand, and she did not want to take the fall if it meant facing such a man. "…" Aya closed the door to the commissioner's office behind her, and headed straight for a water fountain. Only a few people were left, insomniacs who didn't want to face their families, had none, or were like her, terrified of bumbling in front of the commissioner. "…" Aya let the cold water splash on her dry lips, closing her eyes, relishing the feeling. It was a nice break from all the caffeine that she had swimming in her system. For some reason, she still felt as if the red turtleneck that she wore made her stick out like a sore thumb, even though she's already had it on for roughly more than half the day.
Kevin laughed out loud, choking on a pretzel as he did, not that he cared. It was Christmas, three months after they first met, and it was more than the scarves, jackets, and coats that made them feel warm. Snow fell lightly on the window, almost invisible thanks to the sun that oddly shone even through the undead cold. "Stop laughing! Mutant horses are not funny!" Aya yelled at him, albeit jokingly, she too was under the effect of that warm feeling that so many people cherish. "Yeah, but come on, all you had to do was move out of the way and they'd end up hitting a wall or something." he joked back, taking a drink from his Frap. "…" Aya smiled, feeling glad that she found someone who was more or less like herself, a survivor. "By the way, you have a thing with your cornea right? Do you like, see dead people?" he asked, Aya not entirely sure if it was a serious question or not. Her flabbergasted expression just made Kevin laugh louder, making Aya revel in the joy that she then felt soon after.
Aya took a big gulp, and stood back up, wiping her lips with the back of her palm. She signaled for a passing officer, a rookie, to come by her, it was a call that the young man did not hesitate to comply with. "Yes ma'am?" he asked, the late hours not a hindrance to the pure, almost innocence, that radiated from his blue eyes. "You're paired with Bendis, right?" she asked him, to which he responded positively. "Okay, I have a job for you. I need you to drive around Radissons street, see if anything goes awry."
"…Yes ma'am, but aren't those all condominiums there?"
"Yeah. Hey, if you're lucky, you could spot Claire Redfield. I heard she stayed in one of them."
"Really? The Claire Redfield? The girl who survived-"
"Yes, yes, her." Aya quickly chided, not in the mood for another fanboy who got into the academy just so they could hear more war stories. She already thought that Claire had enough credentials to star in a wrestling program. It didn't prevent her from wearing a faux smile as she issued the order though. "And tell Millar to do the same, only tell him to keep watch over at San Antonio Street." She then ordered, heading for her table. "Get a grip, girl. Kevin can handle himself. He's a survivor." Aya reassured herself. "Wait, wait wait, what the fuck? Why should I be concerned about him? He's just a selfish asshole!" She rubbed her temples, getting aggravated at the sudden thought. "…I'm just doing my job."
"You owe me big time." Kevin snarled at her, albeit jokingly, as she stretched outside of the interrogation room. "…Yeah well, you always said you were good with the ladies." Aya responded, raising an eyebrow. She was always one to stand up to a fight, whether it be verbal, or perhaps even with a flame throwing madwoman who mutates over time. "This is about me going out with Melissa, isn't it?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning on the concrete wall. "Oh please…" Aya replied, rolling her eyes. "I couldn't care less about you fucking some celebrity that you hooked up with." She then said, clearly lying through her teeth. "…For your information, I was really, really excited to connect with Melissa tonight. Connect. It's a concept that you seem to have trouble grasping." He shot back, not minding the discomfort that this was causing Aya. He himself, behind the façade of the strongman, was also the victim of a heart beating faster than a percussion instrument in a Woodstock. "Oh? So what kind of connecting do you have planned? Your dick up her cunt? Wow, way to move forward in a relationship. Oh wait, you never lasted more than two months with a girl…I wonder why?" she snapped back, placing her hands on her waist. "Listen, I really want to make things work between me and Melissa, okay? The last thing I need, is a jealous--"
"Detective!" someone called, holding a phone that hung on the wall.
"Yeah?" she pushed back her hair, acting as if nothing was stirring in her head.
"…it's about officer Ryman."
The commissioner put on his long, brown coat, glancing through the blinds of his office to watch Aya rush into the elevator, clearly in distress. His brow curled up, with the cold grasp of dread slowly creeping into his blood. He knew that Aya was a fine officer, one that kept a cool head in the heat of battle, and the only thing that could ever work her up was Kevin Ryman. He did not bother to ask about Kevin's condition, since it was not the primary importance. A man who can take care of a mutant alligator can obviously take care of himself."…No time for worry." He thought, tidying his blue tie, and then adjusting the buckle on his belt. "We all…still have a job to do." He then thought, as if he wanted Aya to heat hose words as well. "And we always have to keep in mind that the safety of others, is paramount." His eyes fell on a picture of his late wife. "No matter how much our heart tells us to stop."
"Sir? You're leaving?" asked a young woman who carried a good number of folders.
"Yes, Emily, I have a very important matter to attend to." He responded, closing the door behind him.
"But sir, we just got the report on the vigilante dressed as a bat…"
"Leave it on my table, Jessica."
"Yes sir." She replied, keeping inside her irritation about not being at the very least recognized for her work. She fumbled to get the door open; all the while the commissioner just walked away, his head in the clouds. Besides, even a gesture of chivalrous intent to women, for him, might be a form of dishonor to the sacred memory of his dead wife. But then again, no thoughts of self, or other, filled his mind as he walked down the ghostly halls of the police department. The soft buzz of a floor buffer echoed down the corridor, and the commissioner wished for a moment that the sound could drown out all the fear that he had in his heart. But that was only for a moment. He was a man who did not dare to hope, for the sole reason that he sees the world as a place that does not opt for hope.
"Oh, sir!" Jessica called, jogging after the commissioner just as he got to the main lobby.
"Yes?" he asked, his mind still somewhere else.
"I was wondering, if it would be okay if I…"
"Yes?"
"…Well, it's just that my, uh, there's this Jazz thing, going on at The Temple, and I was wondering if maybe, you and I could go." She kept her hands behind her, almost as if showing off her vulnerability to the seasoned man before her. It definitely caught him off guard.
"…Pardon me?"
"…Uh, I…"
"Jessica, I'm twice your age."
"Oh, yes, well, yeah…I know, but…"
"…I have someplace to go. Thank you for the good job with the paperwork." He said, albeit awkwardly, before turning once again to leave. The massive statue of a woman in a blindfold, right in the middle of the lobby, loomed over him, like an avatar of his past, condemning him for even having the pleasure of a thought. "…" The commissioner shook his head to himself, a gesture that Jessica, still watching, took a little too personally. "Back to reality." Thought the commissioner, buttoning his coat as he descended the stone steps. As soon as the cold winds brushed his face, the alarming words of the private nurse rang back to his ears, the very reason that he was hurrying out of his office just minutes ago. "Mr. Commissioner." He easily remembered her raspy voice. "Chris Redfield just woke up."
Chapter 3, End.