I walked off the property for the last time, glad to be shut of this mess, my keys jangling as I double-tapped the fob, the tell-tale chirp of my alarm reminding me where I'd parked. My engine's rumble served as a fitting period to the paragraph of my life that was working for Umbrella. For the last ten months, I'd served as head of security for a research facility just south of Salt Lake City. I'd started the job bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and thoroughly thrilled to be working for the premier biotech company on the planet, a foray into the private sector a welcome relief from my last job.

As time wore on, however, the veneer's cracks began to show; experiment logs, even in sanitized corporate lingo, told me that something was terribly amiss. My innate curiosity and inability to let things lay confirmed what I'd feared, there was far more going on inside the walls of Umbrella's neat and tidy facilities than simple medical research. With that knowledge firmly tucked in my back pocket, I'd tendered my resignation, effective immediately, thank you very much. Cutting bait hadn't been difficult, I wasn't a whistle-blower, and whatever lay at the end of Umbrella's fucked up rainbow wasn't my concern.

Until it was.

After two days of riding and more shitty gas station food then I care to admit, I pulled into the driveway of my childhood home. My parents were thrilled to see me and were quick to bring me up to speed on the goings-on around town, such as they were. I think they could tell something was off; my somewhat chipper self had been subdued by the stress of knowing I was complicit in something,but I had forcefully steered clear of what that something was. I was all too familiar with what organizations like these were capable of and just how far they'd go to keep a secret. My dad finally cornered me about a week into my stay. Out on the deck having an early morning cigarette, he made his move.

"Kid, you've got something on your mind, and if your damn face stays like that for too long, it's gonna get stuck, and all you've got going for ya is your looks.

I snorted. "Fuck you, buddy."

We both cracked up. I realized right then how much I missed this, having family close by to lean on when existential crises arose. After a few moments of genuine laughter, we managed to get ahold of ourselves. I took a hard drag of my smoke and favored my old man with a look, trying to decide if he needed the whole story.

"Honestly, Pop? I'm pissed that Umbrella turned out to be the same BS I can't stand, I was hoping for something nice and quiet, all I got was false alarms and what I'm sure is an ulcer."

His grimace said it all. "Shit, boy, I'm sorry, I know how excited you were about getting the gig. Really that bad, huh?"

Now it was my turn to look grim, "Oh yeah, mind-numbing bullshit like you've never seen, I'm sad that my bubble burst, but glad for the experience and even happier that I'm out of there. Now it's time to look ahead."

Dad looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, you've lived more than most Mike; no one can say you haven't given your all and then some. I'm real proud of you, no matter what you choose to do next."

I couldn't help but smile at his earnest admission, no matter how old you get, hearing your dad say he's proud of you makes it all seem worth it. "Thanks, Dad, love ya, man."

"I love you too, kid. C'mon, mom's making lunch."

I followed him inside and slid into my seat at the worn kitchen table, ready to dig in.

"So, you gonna find a job?"

I looked up from an excellent looking ham sandwich to find my mother staring me down. "Yeah, Ma, I'm all over it."

The fake glare she gave me scared precisely no-one. "Bum"

Now it was my turn to glare, "I'll put you in a home I swear to Jesus."

"I'm cutting you out of my will."

"Oh yeah? And what were you thinking of leaving me, huh?"

"It's symbolic, you little shit!"

Dad spit his milk halfway across the room and the table devolved into three grown-ass adults giggling like infants. Mom, like always, was the one to bring us back to the center. "Take your time, honey, find something that makes you happy, a career you can be proud of. Or weave baskets, I don't give a shit."

God, it was good to be home.

Three weeks, and a few blurry nights, later found me about to be running late to my first goddamned interview since leaving Umbrella in the dust. Needless to say, I was a bit stressed.

"WHAT'S A FUCKIN' GREEN LIGHT MEAN WHERE YOU'RE FROM?!"

Okay, so I was pretty stressed.

After digging around, I had heard about a new unit being stood up in a place called Raccoon City by their P.D. Some kind of hotshot crew of specialists, the rumors said SWAT, the reality was more Detectives mixed with Delta, combined with Search and Rescue. I'd put out some feelers and found out that they were actively interviewing for a couple of open slots, advertising their need for a "unique skill set" well, if that wasn't me in a nutshell. One hat thrown in the ring, and a flight later found me fighting Raccoon City traffic. I'd parked and ran to the ornate looking building housing the police department, juggling my resume and certifications. A two-page cover letter detailing every achievement since winning the third-grade spelling-bee, and an overpriced coffee that was moments away from re-coloring all said documents a lovely brown shade.

Somehow, the clouds parted, angels sang, and I managed to get ass-in-seat five minutes before my interview was slated to start, the receptionist giving me a small, knowing smile. Taking a few breaths to steady my heart rate, I glanced around the lobby. The architecture was beautiful, almost gothic in appearance; someone had a major hard-on for Middle English decor. An opening door broke me out of my architectural reverie as a woman walked into the lobby, looking around cautiously, clearly trying to get her bearings. From forty feet away, I could tell she had a figure, her smartly cut suit curving in all the right places. I took a chance, whistling softly to get her attention. She turned her gaze towards me, and breathing became a chore. She was gorgeous, painfully so in fact, brown hair framing hugeblue eyes, a cute little swoop of a nose and lips that were begging to be kissed.

"Interview?" I mouthed

An equally beautiful smile split her face as she nodded. I gestured towards the empty chair across from me as she hurried over and took her seat, shuffling papers and adjusting her outfit in a whirlwind of activity before locking eyes with me again, holding her hands out to the side and cocking her head in the universal gesture for "how 'bout it?" I flashed her a thumbs-up that she returned with a quiet chuckle. I opened my mouth to ask her name when the office door creaked open, revealing a well-built blonde guy, the bars on his collar combined with his demeanor screamed: "I'm in charge."

He glanced down at his clipboard, "Kelly?"

I popped out of any chair, "Yes, sir?"

He regarded me over his sunglasses, "It would appear that you're next," he pivoted to address the woman, "Which would make you Valentine?"

She nodded, "Yes, sir."

"You're up after Mr. Kelly, don't stray too far."

Again she nodded, "Understood, sir, I'll be here."

Even her voice was sexy, with a touch of a husky rasp that caught and held my attention, even as I gathered my marbles and crossed the room. There was a clipped tone to the way she spoke to the Captain that made me think military.

Get over it, game time.

I shook it off, close enough to get a glance at the Captain's nameplate, A. Wesker, and for some reason, that set my bells ringing even as he returned my handshake with an iron grip. "Mike Kelly, sir."

"Captain Wesker, a pleasure Mr. Kelly. Glad to see you have everything in order; let's get started, shall we?" He stepped aside to allow me in, following close behind. I took a seat across from him at the large oak desk that was the room's centerpiece. Initially, the interview went smoothly, the basic softball type questions, until he finally hit a nerve.

"So, Kelly, how exactly are you a good fit for this type of work?"

He already knew, but he wanted me to say it, wanted to see if I'd faked my way in the door. I sighed softly and obliged. "I spent twelve years interning and working in the intelligence community, ten of which were in overseas postings, my most recent posting with the agency lasted four years and was in a more… kinetic capacity. I believe you have my resume, what's enumerated there is the only unclassified information I have." I didn't appreciate the game he was playing, no matter how much I wanted the job.

His gaze never wavered, "That verifies the information I had, thank you, and I hope you understand; not only is your resume somewhat hard to believe, but it begs other questions, with this kind of experience, you could be working in any capacity you wanted, tactically oriented or not. I imagine your education alone could net you six figures easily. So why here?"

Blood sprayed the wall; I kept pressure on Ray's femoral artery, it was just high enough that the tourniquet wasn't doing a goddamn thing, he'd long since stopped screaming, slipping into shock quietly as we worked on him, the little boy he'd tried to save was dead, his eyes, wide open and glassy,

stared at the ceiling of the dingy warehouse…

"A change of scenery, government bureaucracy wears you down after a while, especially at that level." I kept my voice and face impassive, but the memories kept coming in a hot rush.

Ray was gone, Jesus, what was I going to tell Eileen?

Captain Wesker nodded, "Is that why you went to work for Umbrella?"

Something about the way he said it almost seemed like he was on the verge of a smile, and not a warm one. I forged ahead, shaking off the flashbacks. "Yes sir, I figured the private sector would afford some more freedom, head of external security at the Salt Lake Facility for the better part of a year. I imagine you can understand that overseeing the checking of ID's and handing out parking tickets might have been a little slow for me, I wanted to position myself where I could do the most good."

Now he smiled, and it reminded me of a shark, "Fair enough, Mr. Kelly. I'll be honest with you, I'm not in the habit of leaping before I look, that said, I would like to offer you a chance, and only a chance, to pass selection for my unit. And I can't imagine you flew here from Wyoming just to turn me down. Selection begins in two weeks or as soon as I fill the roster, whichever comes first. I trust you can find accommodations until then?"

I nodded, clamping down on the excitement welling up inside me, chasing away that old twinge of doubt. "I'll handle it, Captain."

"Brilliant, I have your email; expect a packing list by tonight as well as a time to come in tomorrow and get measured for your PT gear and basic gear issuance." Almost in unison, we stood, and he held out his hand, "I look forward to seeing if you have what it takes."

I shook his hand, "I have no doubts, Captain, thank you," Something tugged at me, and I took a chance, "If we could sir, I'd like to keep the conversation regarding my past employment between us, I'd like a fresh start."

He sat back down with a curt nod, "I see no reason why not, all personnel files are confidential as it stands. IF you make it to the team, I'll let you decide when, if, and how you choose to divulge any information. Please have Miss Valentine wait another ten minutes while I make your arrangements, then come in for her interview."

I nodded my thanks and walked out into the lobby, feeling relief flood through me, I'd done it. "Valentine?"

She looked deep in thought, but glanced up at my voice, her lips quirking into a small smile, "Yes?"

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, "Captain said to wait for another ten and then head in."

I was ready for that to be the end of it, turning to walk out, she had other ideas, "So? Don't keep me in suspense! Did you get it?"

Part of me wondered why she cared, that old defensiveness welling up, until I heard my shrink's words in the back of my head.

Try and open up a little more, Mike. It can only help.

I grinned at her, "Coming in tomorrow for gear, looks like I got a shot."

She grinned right back, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight that streamed through the windows, and flashed me a thumbs up, "Nice dude! Wish me luck?"

"All the luck in the world, Valentine, here's hoping I'll see you at selection." With one last smile I all but skipped out of the building; maybe this was the start of me getting my life back together after all.

An hour later, I'd checked into the hotel, paid up through the next two weeks, and unloaded all of my stuff. Now I was lying on the bed, still shaking off the jet-lag and the excitement of today. I found my thoughts drifting to Valentine, wondering how she'd fared; it'd be a shame if I never got to see her again. Pretty little thing, she'd caught my eye the way no woman had for a long time. The intelligence and mirth shining in her eyes, combined with the air of competence and professionalism she gave off, she was definitely ticking all my boxes. I idled for a bit, lighting a smoke and keying up some Colter Wall on my phone, tapping my foot to Livin' On The Sandwhile I figured out my next move. My phone pinged as I ruminated, an email from the Captain telling me to show up at the PD at noon to get the gear I'd need; I fired back a confirmation, deciding right then and there that a drink was in order. I changed out of my suit and into some street clothes, making my way down to the lobby for my first foray of (hopefully many) into the Raccoon City nightlife. Excited about the future for the first time in years.

I should've packed my shit right then, and gone the fuck back to Wyoming.