Death Becomes Her
By Julesville
Chapter 2 - "Near Death Experience"
FOUR YEARS after Raccoon City
Time Frame: Noon, March 30th
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The Coffin had four floors if you didn't count the two sub-basements and the Sepulcher, the first three were sprawling bull pits where soldiers trained endlessly, researchers experimented with minimal sleep, and secretaries filed and collated without vacation, the fourth however was exclusive to FRO's administration.
Sometimes referred to as "The Glass Ceiling," but shorted to "The Ceiling," was a farcry from the floors that proceeded them. While one through three were busy as city blocks, the Ceiling had restricted access and generally a less active role in the day to day goings on of the organization. The fourth floor exclusively held the offices of the founders and a few conferences rooms, and generally only the admin, their aides, and invited guests would go there. It was generally seen as the retreat for the leaders, who most of the time were never in their offices, usually stalking the halls making sure everything was going right, or taking long trips to different seats of government and corporate headquarters, either reporting to different organizations on progress or politicking redundantly.
Usually, the 6 administrators were never in the same country at the same time, but they would always make time to meet the others for at least a heads-up meeting.
This is what lead to the creation of the "Executive Lounge," a room bigger then most school auditoriums; filled with everything the group would need at any particular time, as well as plenty of other fun stuff to keep them all in one place.
Jill relished this place, a sanctuary away from the noise, where she could work and accomplish things without the feeling that she was simply a laborer. In those meetings, she could effect policy, budget, human resources for a planet wide organization, where she knew she could make a difference.
Languishing in the one of the many plush leather chairs that dotted the rug carpeted landscape, Jill gelled while sipping a snifter of orange-cranberry juice she'd gotten from the bar. She had both feet propped on a nearby mahogany-wood coffee table, where a pile of papers rested quietly away from her, as if they were miles away. She yawned quietly and rested her head on the designer upholstery.
Still, despite the confronting surrounding, her mind wandered, aiding by the lilting tune of a piano expertly played in the echo of the room. What Chris had said, though unfortunate, was true. She had not been faking it when she agreed with him before.
In her life she'd gotten many answers to her hardest questions, but the truth of them were mostly debatable. When pushed to the limit she could keep her cool, but how far could she go; when faced with a life or death situation involving a friend she could save them, but what if it just wasn't possible, what would she do; she could feel emotions for her friends stronger then friendship, but did that mean she loved them? The more she learned about herself the more questions she would ask, a self-defeating method, but they were all good questions.
"Jill." Came the lithe, nymphet voice of FRO's resident prodigy.
Jill shifted her position, sliding her legs under her so she could lean her elbows onto the chair rest. A little ways away, Rebecca Chambers seated behind a massive ebony grand piano smiled at Jill with her impossibly cute features while she swayed slowly to the sonata she tickled out of the ivories.
"You seem pensive…" Rebecca sung as Jill studied her.
"Just wondering, business as usually." Jill came up with, holding her face up with one supported set of knuckles.
"What about, my dear?" Rebecca was like this when she played piano, wise beyond her years, soothing, competent, an object analyst.
"Nothing really. Hey, listen, have you had many… ya know, boyfriends since Raccoon City?"
Rebecca gritted her teeth like Jill was ripping of a festering band-aid, "Um, no. Is that bad?"
Jill frowned briefly, "No, that' not bad, but I mean, it's been 4 years."
"Well, I'm just so busy all the time, always making trans-Atlantic flights so I'm rarely at home, what kind of a good girlfriend could I be."
"Any, potential boyfriends? Been on any dates in four years?"
"You don't have to say it so coldly," Rebecca groaned sending Jill evil eyes before she lowered them and sighed, "But no. Unless you call drinks with the Deputy Prime Minister of England a date… but I don't."
"Hmm, then I guess that makes two date-less carrier girls right here. Cheesecake for two!" Jill jeered morbidly.
Rebecca looked up confused, "You? You're kidding right? How could you not be flush with guy friends, you're so beautiful."
"Shut up." If there was one thing that Jill hated the most, it was compliments when she was in her moment of defeat. Rebecca chuckled in response, prompting Jill to smile a little, "I'm in the same boat as you, how can I keep a relationship and save the world from Zombies at the same time? Really, how do I do that?"
"Well, I think you're supposed to make room for love somehow?"
"There's got to be more to this then that. We're two young, healthy, active girls, why aren't we out there ripping up the streets, turning men to putty like we're supposed to?
Rebecca smiled devilishly "I haven't made a man putty in god knows how long."
"Gross." Jill echoed but couldn't help but giggle at a good dirty joke.
Inside however, she couldn't concur. She knew the exact date and time of her last time, mostly because of a deep down forlorn regret. The event was in response to some intense emotional feelings that had very little to do with the man. In the downfall of her home, she'd found some carnal comfort in a compatriot's arms. She'd kept the fact and identity secret to even her closest friends, and the man had a agreed to let the moment slip into obscurity despite his lingering presence. This identity would most likely be revealed someday in a very emotional scene involving tears and punching, but not today…
For a moment, Jill let her eyes wonder across the room, where far from earshot, Barry Burton and Carlos Oliveira were deep in a game of pool. Carlos, her war-buddy from the mass outbreak in Raccoon city, looking rather unaccustomed to high-class living having resorted back to gray t-shirts and cargo pants, was perched over one of the corner pockets, his cue in hand, laughing at his opponent. Barry, whose sordid past with the S.T.A.R.S. survivors was all but forgotten, enough though he still wore it around his throat like a noose, was busy trying to line up a shot, pouting and grumbling through thick beard at his competition, trying to get him to move.
Her eyes lingered on Barry, the man who betrayed his friends because he loved his family too much. Jill, Chris, Rebecca, and anyone else who could have taken offence had already forgiven him, realizing that he'd had no choice if his family were on the line, supporting the idea that they'd do the same if they'd been blessed with children and a loving spouse. Barry, still, had to look at himself in the mirror every morning, he had to look at every step he'd taken in the last 4 years and decide if it was enough to make up for what's he'd done. Where he would have retired otherwise, Barry followed Chris and Jill and formed FRO, uprooting his family and putting them in Bilbao to the east, where his faithful wife spent her days reading and pruning her garden, and his two daughters attended the English school there.
Barry could answer some of the questions Jill had gathered, but then again, maybe she didn't want to the know the answers.
"The President of Russia once touched my butt. Did I tell you that?" Rebecca blurted out.
"Yes, many times." Jill groaned.
"I think he was just trying to help me into the presidential limo, but besides Zombie gropings, that's the most action I've gotten in a long time."
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Chris fumbled through the papers his personal secretary had given him, selecting only the ones he found most apt and left the rest in the manila folder to hand back. In all he had several thick reports and he stuck them beneath his chicken-winged arm as he handed the folder to his aide.
"Thank you, Cindy, that'll be all I need from you today." Chris smiled politely as he turned to leave.
"Going out again?" Came Cindy's sweet voice, frezzing him in his place.
Chris turned back to observe the girl, the kind-hearted survivor of Raccoon City, Cindy Lennox. With straw yellow hair that always seemed to be falling from her hair tie and the way she would always hold the files she carried tightly to her chest, she had the exact likeness of a diner waitress. However, she also possessed a motherly smile and large kind eyes, which would always give one the feeling that she really cared about you.
Chris smiled for real now, Cindy had the gift of making you want to contribute to the conversation.
"Yes, I have to go to a meeting at the European Epidemic and Treatment Agency in Brussels. I should be able to finish off today though."
"All by yourself?"
"Well I was thinking of asking Jill to come, the politicians like to see more then one of us at these things. Makes them think we think they're important"
Cindy chuckled slightly as she backed away, "That'll be good for you two. Have a nice trip."
Cindy would also give you the impression that she knew a lot more then she would say. However, only slightly confused by her response, Chris thanked her and turned back to business.
In the long solitary hallway of "the Ceiling," Chris strode towards the thick wooden doors to the executive lounge. Gripping the door knob he pushed in with his shoulder and quickly lipped inside. The door hadn't even swung closed yet when he'd made his way towards the center of the room where a collection of stumpy gray arm chairs surrounded a short teakwood table.
"Back to business, guys!" He called as he plopped down in one of the chairs, but already the various members of the executive staff were zeroing in on the table set.
Jill and Rebecca walked close as girls tend to, each hiding smiles that men were not meant to see. Carlos proceeded Barry, wearing a casual smile and hands in his pants pockets, while Barry slowly put on his brown suit coat and straighten his black tie before marching to a seat, as stoic as ever.
Jill was the first to arrive, giving Chris that greeting where you'd already seen each other five minutes ago, a casual nod and awkward smile. Chris returned it just as gracelessly.
Looking toward the door, she spoke, "Are we going to wait for Claire?"
Chris groaned, "She's still in town, we might as well start without her."
His groan was mirrored by the rest of the group, as much of it due to frustration with Chris as for Claire.
The hierarchy of FRO was a strange one. When in the beginning when it was a loose affiliation of survivors fighting impossibly high odds, there was no thought given to rank or who lead who, decisions were made as a group, usually reacting to things as they came. However, when the organization began to add a budget and thousands of employees, the system refused to change.
FRO was lead by a committee of it's founders; Chris Redfield, Claire Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Barry Burton, and Carlos Oliveira. The six were regarded as both upper-level management and immediate authority for all of FRO's activities.
Each had an honorary title of "Vise-President", except for Chris who took the title "President" because a company needed a figurehead and he was naturally it. These titles however meant nothing in the inner-circle, simply that Chris was more anal-retentive then the rest. Decisions, like in the past, were made by the group and on the spur of the moment.
While everyone was equal, there were certain aspects of the organization that specific people took over. Rebecca Chambers, a genuine genius and general expert on most things, took much of the responsibilities of both the information bureau and research wing, so when she was not in the lab, you would find her jet setting across the globe confirming intelligence reports and meeting with influential people. Barry Burton, preferring for many reasons to keep a low profile, had taken control of the military aspect of FRO; training, weapon procurement, creating battle tactics, and constantly demanding improved technology to fight Zombies. Carlos Oliveira, who was a roamer by nature, had preferred to take a more long range approach to things, working behind the scenes in the intelligence division, often in god awful places where Umbrella had stored it's horrible secrets and bring them back to the Sepulcher. His experience was also invulnerable to keeping up relations with the 14 different mercenary units around the globe that FRO kept in case it couldn't be there in time. Chris and Jill had paralell responsibilities, Chris as a prominent, in-media administrator, and Jill ensuring that the day to day activities in FRO went along smoothly.
Claire was another story, while she wanted more responsibilities, her brashness and lack of experience more her only good enough to support the other VPs. However, this train of thought was floated around by Chris himself, who wanted her to leave the organization and returned to her studies. Still, it was Claire's exuberance that formed the back bone of the group, and although they did not give her too many important responsibilities, they would trust the girl with their lives.
"Was Leon here, I thought I saw his Helicopter sitting in the Heli-Campo." Carlos asked as he fell into the seat across from Chris, scratching his stubble laden chin.
"Yeah, he was dropping off a crate of T-Virus that you missed." Chris jeered.
Carlos smiled, "Hey, I just go where she tells me, blame her." He said pointing to Rebecca as she sat down daintily on the chair next to him, pressing her legs tight together and sitting with an impossibly straight back.
"Yeah, blame the book worm." Rebecca sneered, picking up the pitcher of water on the table and pouring herself a glass, "But we got the shipment, and that's what's important right?"
Chris snorted quietly, if only she knew, "Anyway, let's start this meeting…"
The five veterans collected themselves, leaving friendly mode behind and entering business frequency. Smiles and slouches, became stoic looks and positions suitable for pouncing on any danger that would arise. When it came to their work they were deadly serious, because any goof up or mistake on their part could mean a second Raccoon City, and they were not going to let that happen.
"Alright," Chris said opening one of the packets, "What's this about Barry and Carlos?"
Looking up from his own agenda, Barry's mustache moved up into speaking stance, "Carlos and I were planning a survival exercise for some of the recruits."
"How long was it supposed to be?" Chris asked.
"Only two days," Barry continued, "We were only planning to introduce them to some simple outdoors tactics, I mean, some of these kids haven't even seen the forest before."
Carlos raised a finger and took the floor, "We were heading out east to the foot of the West Pyrenees, there's a camp there used by the Guardia Civil for military exercises. I contacted them and thy were more then happy to let us use it for as long as we wanted."
"Perfect." Chris said as he smiled, then turned his head to Rebecca, dressed in a short sleeve white button shirt and shear black skirt that reminded him of the uniforms for female officers of the RPD, "Rebecca, I heard you had a big find."
She smiled and nodded, "Yep. Ladies and gentlemen, we just got some intel on a member of our Most Wanted list, Darren Deresh."
"Who's Darren Deresh?" Jill asked, weighing her head on her fist.
"Darren Deresh was a treasurer for Umbrella right before it fell. He's German and worked at the Paris headquarters for 21 years."
"How come we've never heard of him?' Carlos asked, "Or was I not paying attention before?"
"It's not surprising, the Most Wanted list really only goes up to 20, and Deresh originally ranked in as 46. He actually doesn't have much probably to do with the T-Virus project, but we believe that he may have seen financial reports about it. All we really wanted to do is talk to him during the trials, but when they came around he fled, so he was put on the list. There's currently an international warrant for his arrest."
"Where is he now?" Jill asked.
"My source has told me he's hiding out at a Chateau in the Black Forest in south Germany. Supposedly, he's been there partying for quite some time. I suppose he's waiting for the heat to die down before he tries to leave the European Union."
"I guess he doesn't realized how heated we really are." Chris interjected, "Who wants to handle this?"
"If you don't mind, Chris." Rebecca said raising her hand like she was in grade school, "I'd like to go get him myself. This shouldn't be to much trouble; I can just swoop in, grab him and be out of there in with no problems."
"Rebecca," Carlos said leaning in close to her, "Maybe I should take care of this, I've done a lot more of these extractions."
Rebecca smiled, "You've got that training thing to do. I'll be fine, just give me a couple of the soldiers you're not taking and I'll be back before nightfall."
Carlos chuckled as he leaned back once again, "Well, you can have it this time, but you owe me one."
Rebecca chuckled in return, "I guess Christmas came early this year."
Chris nodded, "Fine, if there are no objections… Ok, Jill."
Jill popped to attention, swiveling her head and upper body around to observe the man, "Yes?"
"My work today's going to take me to Brussels, I have to give a short report to the European Epidemic and Treatment Agency. I could use another body. Want to help me on that?"
Jill smiled and nodded, "No problem, I was going to supervise the routine maintenance on the mainframe today, but that sounds way less boring."
Chris nodded back, "Then it's a date."
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"They're doing something important without me, I just know it." Claire commented into her half empty glass of wine.
"That was rude of me to just leave like that, I feel bad. It's like I'm always forgetting stuff when you're around." Leon also commented on into his half full glass of wine.
Claire turned her head up to look at the man's face. It was becoming quite distinguished, his fresh-faced flatfoot exterior melting away to a battle-tested anti-hero attitude. It fit him well.
She smiled a hidden, girlish smirk, one with a devious plot to support it. She stretched her body further across the bar so she could move into Leon's view. He turned his head slightly to look her right in the eyes, and added a garish smile just to be cute.
"Leon, when are we going to hook up?" Claire blurted, never one to be passive.
Leon snorted in mild laughter, "You know it would never work out between us."
Claire laid her head down across her arms, "Aww, does that mean you don't like me, guardian angel?"
"No, that's not it. You know I think you're great."
"Really?" Claire said trying to act excited.
"Yes, you know that, but we're on two different paths now. You're here in FRO, me, I work for the US government. I mean, my apartment is across the Atlantic ocean, how could we maintain that."
"Leon, I don't want to worry about logistics. I like you, you like me, were should be together."
"Come on, Claire, you need a lot of things, but I'm not one of them. You should forget about me…"
"I could never do that, not after what we went through together."
"Honestly," Leon mumbled turning his head, "I'm trying forget a lot of the crap that happened back there. I'm have far too much trouble sleeping at night."
"I know…" Claire mused circling her finger around the lip of her wine glass, "There are a lot of things we have to put behind us, but not the good stuff, and I consider meeting you, the best possible thing that could have happened to me that day. I don't want to forget you.
"Like wise…"
Clair leaned her head gently against Leon's thick shoulder, letting stands of hair fall from her bangs onto his chest. She laid her head there for a few moments that seemed like eternity but weren't long enough for her. She felt safe with that man, he was her guardian angel, it was like home.
In fact, it was almost like being with her brother, the thought of which was frightening and intriguing at the same time. In her life, her brother had been the greatest man she knew, no one had ever come close, him having had to be her father from a time they were very young. They say that good girls grow up to marry their "fathers," which, even though she was no good girl, meant she'd probably need to find someone like Chris.
Being safe at Leon's side, Claire had found her man. All she needed to do know was stay with him forever.
"Hey Leon, what's the "S" stand for, I bet it stands for Sexy."
"It's secret."
"Leon Secret Kennedy?"
"No, it's classified information, released on a need to know basis, very hush hush."
"Yeah right, I bet it stands for Sara."
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