Chapter 6

French military base, 10:35 P.M. She had the perfect life. A beautiful face and figure, rich parents, 3 luxuriouse cars, all bought by her father, and the natural laziness and fuss that comes with the package. She was a user and a tease. Always getting what she wants. If not, she'd manipulate and whine until her desire became reality. But today, all of that changed. The room was dimly lite, by a single swinging light above her. The walls were stained with a browish red hue. The smell of rotting meat, urin, sweat, and excrement all about her. The screams of past patrons echoed in her head, making her question her sanity profusely. She struggled constantly, only wanting to break free, and return to her shallow existance. But the thick leather straps about her wrists and ankles, prevented her salvation. This large wooden chair was her home now.

Tears rolled down her cheeks like a waterfall, her cries and pleas went unheard. Her struggles were in vain. Her life flashed before her eyes, she saw every sin, every ounce of pain she caused, and every selfish act she committed. Too many to count. The room was perfectly square, with no windows or clocks. She didn't know how long she had been out for. It could have been years, and she would never know. The only things she could see, was the rusty door in front of her, a small wooden table beside her, and the large bloodstained grate on the floor at her feet. Her weeps, were partially out of fear, and also out of regret. If she had been more kind, more compassionate, and less selfish. Maybe... Just maybe, things would have turned out better for her.

All she wanted was to return to her home in England. Just seeing the beautiful lake and countryside, would make her feel sheltered and safe once again. She promised herself, she would change. But it was too late. Her redemption was at hand.

The haggard door creaked open, and loud footsteps were heard over the concrete tile. The tall, lanky figure walked in slowly. His soulless gaze leering over the beautiful woman, whome he saw as a wretch. His carried a steel brief case in his left hand. He wore a grey 5.11 shirt, and grey cargo pants. His hikers echoed upon the floor with each terrifying step closer. The woman could not make out his features, for his face was masked in shadow. He stopped directly in front of her, and stared her over for a long moment. He looked up and his face was fully illuminated. His eyes were empty, and showed no signs of pity or remorse. His blonde hair, pulled back tightly into a pony tail. His facial structure was extremely handsome, with high cheek bones, a strong jawline, full lips, and proportioned nose and ears.

The girl broke into more tears, remembering exactly who this man was. She went to school with him a few years ago. Her and the other popular girls always teased him, and led him on. Because he used to be quiet and over weight. Back then he had no social skills. He never spoke because, his mind would work faster than his tongue, allowing comments that seemed immature and inappropriate for the situation. But the pain always laid dorment in his heart. While the rest of his unit partied, he used his free time to ruin those who hurt him. He abducted these girls, and repayed them for their selfishness. His heart was once pure and innocent. But cruel girls have corrupted him, and made him hate.

"Your tears mean nothing to me now. You remember everything you and your circle of whores did to me. I will Purify you Jessica. I will not kill you, for you do not deserve the comfort and closure of death." Stated the man sadisticly, with a demented smile upon his face. "Please Conner... It was only a few jokes, we didn't know it hurt you that much. Please I'm sorry... Just let me go home. I promise I will make it all up to you. Anything you want, money, drugs... Even me." Replyed Jessica, with tears running down her face, and fear in her voice. "Do you actually think that I want to pollute myself with filth like yourself?" Retorted Conner. "Please! I'm sorry.. I'm so very sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, the other girls put me up to it! You have to believe me!" She begged as she looked down and continued to sob. "This is your fault for selling yourself so cheaply. But don't worry. I will help you." He finished with a sympathetic tone. "Really?" Her eyes lit up and a beautiful smile spread across her face.

Conner dropped the case on the small wooden table beside the girl freely. He ran his soft fingers over the dials, clicking all of the correct numbers into place before it opened. The steel cover lifted up, and a small light was flipped on inside the case. His instruments were displayed proudly. A scalpal, bonsaws, syringes, containers filled with various fluids of different colours and textures, and many other horrifying instruments. "Yes... I will help you. I will change your heart, by cutting you in many ways. I will change you from the terrible creature you are, into something beautiful. No longer will you be shallow and selfish. But you will see the beauty in disfiguration. And know what a sympathetic heart feels like. I will remove your nose and lips, and I will cut way your hands. However... I will leave your eyes and ears, so that you can see and hear the responses, of shallow people like yourself."

Jessica screamed and begged, as he reached for his tools. She wriggled and shook the chair, trying desperately to break free. Shouting apologies, and obscenities. Proclaiming hatred and ironicly love for him. Anything she could think of to try and get out of her situation. And without another word, Conner went to work.

12:10 A.M. Genoa, Italy. The drive has been long and tedious, almost 9 hours worth. Barry grabbed his side, and rubbed the tender muscles gently. He was going to be sore for awhile. However after the brawl, he did get a good cut of the money, and a few connections to the black market that resided in northern Italy. He released the blue smoke from his nostrils, and found it difficult to pay attention to what was in front of him. He had been taking the back roads most of the way to avoid any heat.

The roads were deserted for the most part, and it's been at least an hour since he saw another vehicle. He contacted Chris just after his fiasco earlier that afternoon, and was pleased to hear his voice again for the first time in several months. Chris had been residing in France for the last month or so. He didn't plan on returning to America any time soon, since Leon Kennedy had told him about something that was going down. The Secret Service wasn't sure what, but they relocated Chris to France just in case he would become a target. Chris set a rondevouse point in the middle of the forest for 12:30 A.M. Chris also mentioned that he felt like he was being watched, however he simply chalked it up to paranoia.

Barry rolled down his window and tossed the smoking filter outside. He glanced at the clock, it was now 12:22 A.M. He pulled up the PDA within the Hummer's computer. According to the coordinates that Chris sent him, he was about another 5 minute drive ahead. He reached down to the passanger side, and grabbed the SMG. Pressing his thumb over the small button at the top of the grip, the clip slid gracefully out of the breach, and on to the soft leather upholstery. He turned the magazine around, and examined the thin slit that ran down the back of the metallic piece from top to bottum. He counted the 7.65 millimeter rounds inside. Since his brief firefight that morning, he had only about 5 rounds left in that clip.

The road was fairly straight, so he took the wheel with his knees as he reached for some electrical tape he found in the back earlier. He grabbed the 2 fresh mags, and the nearly spent one. Holding the spent one in the center, he flipped a fresh one upside down, and pressed it beside the dry one. Barry then proceeded to wrap the sticky tape around the two clipsholding them together. He then flipped the other upside down as well and pressed it against the other side of the near empty one, repeating the process. When he was finished he had a make shift 3 in 1 loading system. It was a guerilla tactic used in Vietnam to speed reload your fire arms, without having to search your belt or fumble around for an extra mag when you were in a tight spot. When one clip is spent, you simply eject the magazine into your free hand.Turn it over, and slide the adjacent one home.

He slide the center nearly empty clip into the breach, and pulled back the bolt to chamber the next round. He pulled over to the side of the road, according to the PDA, it was the precise location. He turned off the ignition, and scanned the area from behind the wheel for Chris. But there was no one in sight. He looked back at the clock, it was 12:29 A.M. "Bah, that kid is never on time. I'd be foolish to expect otherwise." Barry stuffed a smoke into his mouth, and looked back up. Before even reaching for the lighter, his jaw dropped. Allowing the tobacco and paper mold to fall to the floor below. Only to be staring down the barrel of an M249 machine gun, manned by a large Latino man. Before the gun unleashed it's fury.