September 26th, 4:12 a.m., R.P.D. Courtyard, Raccoon City.
The beautiful red-brick exterior and surrounding greenery of the Raccoon City Police precinct towered over the running figures that darted in between the enemies shambling through Ennerdale Street.
After countless hours of running and fighting, everything on her body seemed to have a decent argument for the pain that radiated out the hurt.
Arms that clutched the grenade launcher, the injured shoulder from ramming the doors in the alleyways, and her bruise laden legs that had carried her tirelessly through the streets, even the roots of her hair seemed to be singing out a particular song of exhaustion.
This had become an old habit. Resting only a few hours a day before one particular evening caught her out and she'd be down for a full 24 hours before the cycle would repeat.
They had to keep moving, keep ahead of the tyrant, and keep surviving so that the ones ultimately responsible for this mess could be held accountable. Even the abomination following them was a victim; one who would remain nameless under the guise of human tragedy that Umbrella founded its wealth on.
It was those thoughts that kept Jill Valentine moving. Like a lodestone, it called her forth and held her bound to a duty she had sworn when she had put that badge on for the first time in 1997.
However, some of it was personal.
Richard Aiken
Edward Dewey
Joseph Frost
Enrico Marini
Forest Speyer
Kenneth Sullivan
Brad Vickers
Each name had been etched behind her eyes and rung in her memory like melodic contours every time she recited them. Brian Irons had done more than cost her a lively hood when he had placed the remaining S.T.A.R.S. on suspension and worked to discredit them at every avenue possible.
Beneath her blue tank top, the necklace that lay against her chest had been added upon her return to Raccoon City. The jingling metal sounded the loudest in her environment now.
When Jill had found Forest Speyer on that balcony at the Spencer Mansion in July, she had thought of his memory as she did now.
"You ever miss the military?" Forest had asked her back in 1997 when she was still the newest among the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. officers.
"Sometimes," Jill had answered Forest's question while she studied the playing cards in her hand over her little Formica table in the kitchen.
Forest Speyer had been her first friend since returning from her deployment. Many of her high school friends had gone off to college, gotten married, or generally carried on when she had returned home. Joining the police department had seemed like the natural choice when she thought of her next step, but it wasn't until Albert Wesker contacted her about the opening in S.T.A.R.S. did she find herself face to face with the Bravo Team Omni man.
Despite her best attempts to remain aloof, Forest hadn't let her escape his notice and her nights had seemed less lonely while he sat at her kitchen table. With alcohol changing hands between two old military dogs, they had laughed while Forest had given her shit for her sloppy firing range scores and talked away about the current Formula One racing teams.
It had been simple in its regard and rewarding in the easy pace of friendship that had opened Jill up to the rest of the team.
Her family. Those men had become her family.
And now they were dead.
Nearing the now-damaged gates to the R.P.D., Jill took stock of herself before the sounds of her environment found her once more.
The boots of the men beside her clattered loudly against the pavement as they ran; puddles from the previous rain splashed underfoot.
The metal tags on Roy's vest rattled while he ran beside her, awaiting his next command with his head upturned toward her.
And the provoking call of the lumbering beast that chased them now—chased her now.
As if to prove her point, the muted snarl of, "S.T.A.R.S." came from behind them.
Forest Speyer's dog tags felt hot against her skin.
A tense silence had descended over the trio since their departure from the alleyway. Jill took a sharp breath in anticipation, and looked across at her unlikely teammates, their two different insignias on their uniforms emblazoned with a symbol from their backgrounds and yet their mission had become the same.
Claire Redfield was alive and had been left in the station when the S.W.A.T. van had passed by her and Carlos nearly an hour previous. The doors to the station still stood open from the police officers' departure and while Jill secured the twin metal courtyard gates closed behind them as best she could with their damage, she glanced up to see the shambling forms that had made their way into the station and stood out in the courtyard with them now.
Chris Redfield had become like a brother to her, and despite the horrors that were in the man's own history, he had buckled down and taken care of his younger sister all while he had been through the military and then onto the S.T.A.R.S. The Alpha Team point man was kind, caring, but had a temper that could light the skies when he got one inkling of injustice around him.
His sister, though…
A soft, sad smile touched Jill's features while she watched the shadows moving through the crack of the door in the R.P.D.
Becoming a Raccoon City Firefighter had given the youngest Redfield sibling purpose. Claire's pride had fostered behind a duty that Jill suspected was tied more closer to a guilt the woman harbored than just a service itself.
It was one Jill understood well. Especially now.
And she had been left behind.
Jill's eyes burned when she glanced over at the rookie.
Mistakes happen in the field, and there'd be no time for a reprimand.
"Carlos," Jill called to the Umbrella mercenary as he took time to put down the enemies that came too close now. "Give me the remaining grenades." She held out her hand while she kept her eyes on the beast coming for them now.
The rookie was panting beside Carlos as they both stopped in front of the doors. Carlos was casual in the shots he placed to take out the zombies around them. The mercenary had been dependable and despite her wariness of his occupation, the foolish man was starting to grow on her.
The rookie would be another assessment altogether. Although he was new, she knew his name well. Knew his training scores and the capabilities he possessed through the report that had been placed into a neat pile on her desk when she agreed to help Marvin Branagh scout for new talent.
The Arklay murders had begun rearing its ugly head in June and many of the departments had been struggling for the extra manpower needed at that time. The S.T.A.R.S. had been asked to help in many various ways. Believing her skills could have been better utilized on the streets, she had instead sorted through the profiles diligently for their incoming recruits.
In June, Jill had selected Leon S. Kennedy over countless other applicants and to see him still standing with the city brought her a comfort she wasn't sure she would admit, mistakes aside.
She also wasn't sure she wanted to be the one to tell him she was partially responsible for the new nightmare she thought he may also never forget.
"Hey," Carlos said as he handed over the requested items. "We should—"
"Get inside and look for Claire Redfield." Jill turned her eyes from Carlos to the rookie. "Both of you."
"Not leaving you out here to deal with that thing." The rookie said with some conviction behind his words.
The tyrant had stopped running and now paced toward them in a steady walk. A seemingly arrogant display of humanity left over. As if it knew Jill planned to face it.
Her attention marked the rookie next; maybe there was time for a reprimand.
"Your options are limited to what I tell you, Kennedy," Jill replied quietly while she reloaded her firearm with a steady hand. "I may be the highest level of authority left in this city and that still needs to mean something." Hard eyes held his while he shifted uncomfortably. "As limited as your options are, deciding what I do is not one of them."
"If we get into the station, we can funnel it—" Leon was a man torn, Jill could see it from the way he went from looking at her and then back toward the doors where Claire remained.
Where he had left her.
"Oliveira," Jill interrupted in a much harsher voice. The tyrant was nearing the gates. "You were given orders to rescue the survivors of this city."
"I was," Carlos said, his eyes watching her in a look she couldn't quite discern.
"Take the rookie officer inside and find out what became of one of the last firefighters of this city. I warned you once that this thing is chasing me, and I won't put any of our own in danger. Besides," Jill lifted her grenade launcher. "I really don't think it's ready for what I know how to do with this."
"Let's go." Carlos was lowering the rifle he had kept trained on the moving forms of the dead that lurched toward them along with her new nemesis. Carlos' hand was pulling at Kennedy's shoulder.
"Be careful," Leon said after a moment. "Roy, come on. Roy!"
The K9 remained beside Jill, staring up at her with that doggy pant holding his mouth open.
Jill glanced down at her little friend and with a simple jerk of her head, the dog instinctively seemed to understand her meaning. His clicking paws sounded out against the night before the doors of the precinct shut heavily behind the men.
And she was alone once more.
"S.T.A.R.S," the creature breathed while he stared at her from his position at the gates.
The soulless milky eyes held her gaze.
It had chased her all over the city. A ruthless and pursuing reminder of what she had dedicated herself to by staying.
The metal gates blew open from its next powerful strike.
Jill's bangs fell across her brow when she lifted her chin and the grenade launcher together at once.
"You know, nothing teaches us about the emptiness of war as much as when we learn the loss of everything else along with it, Valentine," Forest Speyer had told her once as he had sat across from her kitchen table. Fingers twirling his empty glass while he watched her over the rising smoke of the cigarette in his hand. "They used to talk to us about idolatry in Sunday school, you know? Hadn't thought of those lessons in ages. Not until I was shooting at people in a different country."
"They teach us of pride, duty, service, and honor," Forest continued when she had glanced up. "But they never tell you of the weight of our service. What it does to you after."
"What did it teach you?" She had asked the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team Omni man.
It wasn't until Jill saw Forest's crow pecked body did she realize how important he had become to her in such a short amount of time.
She had stood before his torn form on the Spencer Mansion balcony as the distant caws of the birds taunted her very being while she remembered—while she decided to never forget.
Kneeling on that mansion balcony, she had touched her best friend's knee as she took in the face she had failed first. There'd be no saving Forest. He was already long gone, but she did manage to take the dog tags from his neck and the grenade launcher from his hands before his body reanimated in death.
His dog tags remained at her neck now, along with the pendant her father had given her. The grenade launcher she now held was the same model she had back at the Spencer Mansion too.
"The false idol we find in war is wrath and wrath knows only hunger," Forest murmured when he stamped out the butt of his smoke in her memory. "No matter how much we feed it, it just demands more."
With the memories falling silent, the tyrant began to charge her, and Jill Valentine let her wrath show in the teeth of her smile before she fired.
In the short amount of time that the station's remaining police officers had departed, something had destroyed the eastside railing on the second floor. The smell of the corralled bodies of the infected standing in the space permeated the air and it did nothing for Leon Kennedy's already twisting insides.
As soon as he and Carlos stepped through the threshold and slammed the doors closed, the dead were reaching for both of them within seconds.
"Shit!" Carlos barked beside him as one zombie in a yellow construction vest lunged for him.
The knife Leon had sheathed at his hip was in his hand with a flick of his wrist but the moment he went to drive it into the skull of the woman reaching for him, he knew this wasn't going to be the most effective way to remain unbitten.
The vicious barks of their K9 officer were bouncing off the walls and Leon found himself stepping in front of the dog to kick away a reaching zombie.
Beside him, he watched as Carlos struck the dead man in the face with a heavy forward blow. The result had the sick man's hardhat flying from his peeling skull and clattering down before the feet of the other zombies lurching for them.
"Roy, halt!" Carlos commanded and soon the dog's barks ceased entirely.
As the one, Leon and Carlos moved side by side with Roy behind them and began to take out the remaining 8 or 9 bodies that walked the area now. Carlos with his assault rifle, and Leon with careful kicks to kneecaps that would allow him to have a better stance to drive his combat knife into the side of their heads.
The vibrations of a battle rocked the foundation beneath their boots, signaling Jill's fight with the monster outside the station. The doors shuddered behind them, but no further violation made it into the hall.
Jill Valentine was holding the line.
Leon dimly had the thought of the senior officer's safety as he drove the knife through the last body before him.
The sounds of his panting breath soon became the dominant force of noise in the room after long.
"You alright over there, rookie?" Messy hair shifted to reveal the dark-eyed gaze of his new comrade and Leon snickered at the taunting tone.
"Not really a rookie anymore," he countered before he jutted his chin to the mess before them.
"Right," Carlos supplied as he rolled his shoulders and stepped over one of the bodies. "And what happened to your gun?"
Leon opened his mouth to respond but before he could get the sassy retort out, another roar penetrated the air from the direction of the library door.
It was then that Leon noted the door that had been broken apart on the second floor. Something large was pushing its way out, the pounding steps cracking against the wood of the second floor when both he and Carlos took in the sight of the new creature.
"Awh, c'mon," Carlos groaned as he raised the rifle in his arms once more.
Whatever the thing was, it was wearing pants and that little detail seemed to stop up Leon's mind the most.
The creature was man-like, similar to the one outside but seemed almost sloppy in comparison. The lower half that was still wearing pants remained normal to a point, but thick growths of muscle and wet, decolorated skin appeared to be splitting apart on its shoulders. The face of the creature still retained some human shape, but the jaw hung forward as if it was broken.
"Split formation, Kennedy!" Carlos shouted before he began to shoot and move toward the right side of the hall. "You a front man or a back man?"
"I'm out of bullets is what I am!" Leon shouted over the noise as he ran toward the opposite side where the reception room lay. "Roy, come!"
"Man," Carlos sighed in between his next shots. "Guess that makes you the bait."
With his hair sticking to his brow, Leon began to shout and rap his fist against the reception room shutter. The creature dropped open it's unhinged jaw and let out a deep bellow as it clamored toward him.
Carlos, from his new position across the hall, slammed round after round into its hide.
Before either man could reformulate a plan, the creature's attention was zeroing in on Carlos. It seemed to crouch low in its knees before it took off in a burst of speed across the hall.
"What the fuck—" Carlos uttered before he began to squeeze past the shutter that was already heavily damaged from before. "Kennedy, search for your girl, I'll meet back up with you. Take care of that dog or Valentine will have your ass!"
"Splitting up is not a good idea," Leon retorted before his eyes began to scan for the desert eagle that he had dropped in the hall previously.
But the desert eagle was nowhere to be found. Had one of the other officers grabbed it prior to their departure or had Claire found it...?
Before Leon could protest further, Carlos slithered through the broken shutter on the other side of the room and was gone. The shredded portions of the metal shutter came fully apart as the monster tore after him.
And then Leon was alone.
Far off shots could be heard from the side of the building Carlos now occupied, and the rumbling sounds of the distant battle outside were still in his ears. The shifting wood in the old station had Leon turning toward the west side of the station quietly while he kept the combat knife gripped in his palm.
He had been gone for a little under an hour, and already he felt as if he might be too late. Aside from Claire, the only other person that could have remained in the building was Chief Irons. The clutter of the main hall didn't give him much hope for the outcome, but he wouldn't stop until he found her.
"Claire," he murmured as he slowly made his way toward the hall door that would take him back toward the operations room. "Please be alive…"
Roy let out a soft whine while Leon moved further away from the main hall. The noise stopped the rookie officer and he frowned to watch the animal stare back toward the main hall doors.
Back to where Officer Valentine still fought the creature outside.
"C'mere, buddy," Leon called quietly as he kneeled down with his shaking hand held out in solidarity to the K9 companion.
A cold nose touched his hand before Roy sat before him.
"I know you're worried," Leon muttered, letting his eyes drift to the mess into the hall. "She'll come back. For now, I need your help, alright?"
Roy tilted his head up toward his wavering voice and the level of intelligence in the animal's eyes was a marker for the survival the animal had maintained so far.
"Come," Leon commanded, and Roy soon took up residence beside him as they both now moved toward the door connected to the reception area.
Once through into the western hall, beside him, the uncertain chuff of air that released from Roy did nothing for Leon's confidence. Still, he reached down and touched the top of the animal's head.
In response, Roy whined softly, and his eyes closed for a moment while he waited for Leon's command. The triangle shaped ears were flicking back toward the door they had come from.
They stood there together, a man and a dog, facing the odds of the unknown while the two comrades he made were actively engaging other threats.
An awareness was building steadily for him as he lifted his head and gripped the knife in his hand. The swaying forms before him lit in the half-light from the outside lamps that spilled in from dirty and blood spotted, broken windows.
The sight of it brought on memories he usually chose not to remember but he found himself doing so at his present position in his own history.
It hadn't been too long ago since he had walked out of his last foster home; a birthday that released the child to becoming an adult.
The legal system saw 18-year-olds as adults that could sign up for war, begin paying their own taxes, and hold them accountable for their actions, but he knew better then as he did now.
18 had hardly been the time to know what direction his life could possibly go in, but he had figured it out with help.
"When you get old enough, kid, come find me." The officer who had saved his life had immediately left the night his parents were shot, but before he did, he'd made sure to kneel in front of a 9-year-old Leon to make one last impression.
They'd had to wait for the social worker in the aftermath of the shooting and as Leon sat near the ambulance backdoors he hadn't asked where his parents were—where his brother was—he'd had stepped over them on their way out of the building after all.
Sole survivor, last of kin, heir to a fallen empire of Kennedy's, he'd sat on the bumper of that ambulance while that officer talked to him quietly.
"What good would that do?" His words back to the officer had been a young boy's petulance, but he'd soon recognized it for the hand that it was.
It hadn't been until Leon had been in his public schooling did he ever start to pay attention to it. Most schools participated in the Realistic, Investigative, Artistic, Social, Enterprising, and Conventional testing; the RIASEC. The categories would assess the applicant to each of the categories that would calculate a type of person who may gravitate to, choose, and enjoy a specific occupation or vocational area.
"What happened here…" The officer had looked up above the ambulance and back toward the towering building where his dead family remained and paused for a moment.
"You're going to be angry. You're going to feel lost. In this work, I can tell you there are two ways to go about it. You can seek your revenge and you can take lives just as someone took theirs, or you can find meaning in work that directly improves the lives of others." The officer glanced back down toward Leon then. "There's two sides you can serve, kid, and it's up to you to feed one over the other."
The RIASEC had detailed some suggestions in which his path could go and the wrath inside of him had curled backwards when his nail-bitten fingers had touched the category that highlighted law enforcement on his results page.
"What's your name?" Leon had asked when the officer turned for his squad car. Another car had pulled up and a tired looking woman in a rumpled suit was making her way toward them.
"Officer Dane," the man had responded with a small smile. "Jimmy Dane."
Officer James Dane hadn't been too hard to find when Leon had turned 18. As a fresh adult, he'd found a program in New York that would allow him to sleep in the shelters during the night while he filled out applications during the day.
Officer Dane had been present when he showed up at the precinct to grab the forms for the academy.
Nine years later found the older police officer with a few more greys and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes but there was no doubt that he recognized Leon.
"Decide which one to feed?" Officer Dane asked as a way of greeting.
As if their conversation had never stopped.
"Yeah," Leon had answered and the silence that stretched between the two of them had led to a friendship that he'd never let himself admit felt more like a parent looking out for a wayward son. "I guess so."
Moving into his first apartment was a grace compared to living in the cramped spaces of a shelter but even as he locked his door each night, Leon hadn't felt at home until he was in the Academy, poring over books that would cradle him more than the silence of the empty home.
Home had never been a place.
Home had been the people.
And the people had been gone a long time.
Until he'd moved here. To Raccoon City.
Now, as 21-year-old Leon Kennedy stood in the trashed hall of his current precinct, his eyes narrowed on the shambling forms that were becoming aware of him in the hall.
Citizens who he had chosen to protect, and his last duty would be to put them down.
Somewhere in this station Claire Redfield remained where he had left her and if he could manage to find her, he may be to forgive himself for what he couldn't change.
A wooden block pallet lay in the small alcove on his right, and Leon found his feet carrying him toward it before he braced his left hand against the sturdy part of the wooden center. With the knife clutched tightly in his hand, he turned and began to move through the hall.
"Roy," he called behind him. "Stay."
The wooden pallet was heavy, and the splintering pieces of the material dug into his fingers when he rammed the fixture against the first enemy before him.
Effectively creating a barricade between him and danger, Leon jammed the knife into the growling face before him and knocked it backwards with the pallet before he stepped over the twitching body and continued for the next.
There were so many of them in the hall now, and each one he took in, he looked for the red jacket that would cease his heart. He looked for her face among them and was relieved and scared when he didn't find her.
Face after face, body after body, he used the pallet to keep them back as he faced one at a time. Before long, he crowded into the operations room before he tossed the pallet down and ran for the next hallway.
"Roy, come!"
The pitter-patter of feet signaled the dog's training before the Belgian Malinois trotted to his side and sat beside his feet.
Everywhere Leon looked, he couldn't find evidence Claire had survived.
Not until he saw the bloody handprint on the wall that hadn't been there hours before.
Just before the stairs that would take him and Roy up the backway toward the locker rooms, a bloody and fresh handprint stood out among the rest of the scene before him. As he neared, he noted the still running rivulets that slowly slipped down the cracked painting of the wall.
Fresh blood.
Someone was alive.
"Claire?" Her name tore from his mouth before he stepped toward the stairs and looked up toward the second floor. "Claire, are you up there?"
"Hey," a voice called out behind him, and Leon turned with his knife braced at waist level.
Officer Valentine emerged from the darkness of the hall, and she kept her eyes on him while Roy ran toward her, tail wagging for the friend the dog had obviously made.
Blood ran down what looked like a scrape at her shoulder and parts of her clothes held more dirt than it had before, but she otherwise appeared to be unharmed, if not a little haunted.
Dimly, beneath the fear he held for Claire, Leon was sincerely glad for the company of a fellow officer and for someone as capable as she seemed to be. A little more aloof than he was used to, he considered the things Officer Valentine had been through with the S.T.A.R.S. suspension.
"The monster outside?" Leon asked as she approached.
"Dead," she answered simply, and Leon truly wondered what the woman before him was capable of.
"Any luck?" she asked next as she passed by the bloody handprint and stared for a moment before she stepped up beside him. "Where's Carlos?"
"No." He hated how defeated his voice sounded, but he didn't have enough energy to hide it from his superior officer. "Got caught up with another monster. He's going to circle around."
"Listen," her hand touched his forearm and Leon glanced back up at her tone. "You don't know Claire like I do. She's tougher than she looks and she's a Redfield."
Jill hadn't missed his defeat.
"You worked with her brother," Leon stated as he thought.
"I did—I do," Jill continued before she took the first step onto the stairs. "Tough as nails family and if anyone can hold out, it's a Redfield."
"Yeah," Leon agreed, his stomach twisting around the unknown while he followed behind her. Roy occupied the space between them.
"She something special to you, Kennedy?"
Leon glanced up at Jill's form higher up on the stairs than him while she trained her beretta ahead. Nothing moved from the second floor and with a quick peek into the locker room, Jill and Leon continued up toward the 3rd floor.
When Leon didn't answer, Jill glanced over her shoulder at him as they reached the 3rd floor landing.
"That question was a formality, rookie," she called before she pushed the door open before them. "You don't just jump out of vehicles heading to safety for people you don't care about."
Leon found himself letting out a huff of breath as he followed behind her. They had to go through the third floor to get to the second floor of the library and onto the hall that opened up to the S.T.A.R.S. office hall.
"Probably became one of the most important people in my life in a short amount of time," he finally admitted.
When Jill didn't answer, he continued, "Met her only a few days ago. Day before all of this came to a head."
"Kennedy…" Her voice sounded odd.
"I didn't mean to leave her behind." Leon said as if he needed to clarify to her further.
"Kennedy." Jill's voice was a little sterner.
"What—" Leon stepped around to her side and cut himself off when he spied the high heeled foot sticking out from the crate in the storage room path.
Jill gave a hand signal and Roy immediately sat at her feet with his ears perked forward.
The senior officer moved in a slow arc around the crate with her firearm held up before she paused and lowered the gun.
Leon stepped around the path and took in the view of the woman in the red cocktail dress in front of him.
A relatively young and pretty woman lay with her eyes closed, her short black hair falling over her slumped head. She was badly injured by a sort of wound that her hands were slack against on her side.
It had been her bloody handprint in the hall.
Before Jill could give him the command, Leon kneeled beside the woman and put his fingers to her neck.
"Alive," he reported quietly before he jostled the woman's shoulder. "Hey—"
A gun was in Leon's face before he could blink, and hard hazel eyes were meeting his gaze as the woman in red stared up at him with a lift of her head.
"Drop it," Jill ordered above him.
The hazel eyes stayed on his before they sluggishly glanced up at Jill who Leon assumed had a gun trained back on her.
"You drop it." The woman's voice was throaty and soft when she spoke. A note of impatience leaked through as she pulled something from the top of her dress.
"FBI," Jill toned with a sneer. "Good work, agent. Finding enough to put down in your paperwork?"
Leon only looked away from her eyes when he glanced down at the Federal Bureau of Investigation badge clutched in her shaking hand.
"Station is a mess." The woman finally lowered the gun and engaged the safety. "I don't know who is in charge around here, but it's embarrassing."
"Mhm," Jill responded before Leon finally stood to his feet. "What happened to you?" A look over his shoulder had him taking the gesture Jill made toward the woman's side.
"Gunshot," the woman answered with a grimace while she shifted on the ground. "Tried to look for first aid, but all the stations around your department are empty."
"Imagine that." Jill crouched down from her position a few feet away. She was studying the woman before she set her hand on Roy who now sat beside her. "Who shot you?"
"Do you think we could continue this interrogation after I get some help?" The woman glanced her angry eyes toward Leon.
Truth be told, Leon's mind felt so far away on finding Claire that he sighed at the new development before him.
"I'll carry her," he said before he held a hand toward the woman.
"Just a second," Jill ordered in a voice that spoke to her years in command. "Did your investigation involve anything to do with what's happening to this city?"
"Unclear," the woman took Leon's hand and struggled to stand while her other hand kept ahold of her wound. "You'd have to tell me what you know, officer."
Jill chuckled and rose to her feet. "Reindeer games, perfect." The superior officer turned her attention back to him. "Help her down the hall; there should be something in Rebecca Chambers' desk to help."
Leon was careful when he wrapped an arm around the petite waist of the woman beside him. Her grunt as they began to move caused him to slow down while Jill led them out to the third floor of the library.
"So, who shot you?" Leon decided to ask the question again as they made their way down the steps.
"Didn't recognize the patch," the woman said with irritation in her voice once more. "Looked military. U.B.C.S."
Jill paused before the door that would take them through the unicorn statue room.
"U.B.C.S.?" The S.T.A.R.S. Officer asked before she turned toward them.
"Know them?" The woman asked with a pant. She was leaning heavily on Leon now.
Jill didn't answer before she flung the door open and continued on.
"What's your name?" The woman asked Leon as he helped her the last of the way toward the S.T.A.R.S. office.
"Leon," he said, glancing down at her upturned face. "Leon Kennedy."
"Well, Leon," she said, her gunshot wound seemingly not discouraging the amount of indignation in her spirit. "I suggest we patch up and get the hell out of here."
"Kennedy, use this," Jill called before she tossed a medic bag his way. "Use that on—what the hell is your name?" Her eyes were sharp on the bleeding woman.
"Ada Wong."
Jill tilted her head at the woman, a calculating look crossing her features then.
"I need to make a transmission, but once I'm done, you and I are going to talk." Jill turned from them both and made her way toward a larger radio system on the right side of the room.
"Don't think your friend likes me," Ada hissed out as Leon sat her on one of the desks.
"Been a long night," Leon provided in irony before he set the med kit down on the desk. When he reached for her wound, Ada smacked his hand away.
"I got it." Her hands were shaking when she reached for the iodine in the bag.
With a deep breath, Leon stepped back and glanced back toward the office door. They'd been through the entire westside of the station and aside from the injured FBI agent before him, he hadn't found any further evidence to suggest Claire was still here.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Jill Valentine, former Company A, 3rd Battalion, 3rd Special Forces Group," Jill called into the radio in front of her now. Her hand braced against the large machine. "Request immediate assistance to Raccoon City. Respond."
Silence.
"No one answered my hail when I tried yesterday," Ada murmured quietly next to Leon.
"But your department knows you're here, correct?" Leon asked when he looked back toward Ada.
"City is surrounded," Ada glanced up at him before she ripped ope bandage in her hand. "And the military has been here for days."
Leon's brows scrunched up as he listened.
After a minute had passed, Jill repeated the message into the radio.
"Then we just need to get to the outskirts," Leon said with his heart beginning to race. He thought then of the armored vehicle he had abandoned. Rita had been aiming for the outskirts.
"You don't get it," Ada said, capturing his attention again before she glanced toward Jill. "The military is quarantining this entire place. They'll shoot anyone trying to leave."
Leon took a step back as the news hit him. Were Rita and the others dead? Had they made it to the outskirts only to be gunned down?
"Why?" he demanded. "Officer Valentine is right, it's time you shared why you're here and what you know."
Leon glanced back toward Jill and found her attention already on them. Her eyes were angry as the silence in the radio continued.
When Leon turned back toward the wounded agent, he took a breath as he surveyed her skeptical face staring back toward Jill.
"Listen," he said in a much calmer voice. "We had been actively holding this station for days. We got a group of survivors into an armored vehicle, and if what you're saying is true, then I just sent them along to their deaths."
Jill repeated the message for a third time while he paused around those words.
"We need your help if we're going to do this," Leon gestured a hand around them. "Survive, or even warn others. Not even the military can get away with this."
Ada sighed from her nose in front of him while she wound the ace bandage around her torso and said, "Have you heard of the Umbrella Corporation?"
Jill cut off her radio message and slammed down the equipment.
"Do you know my name?" Jill asked with a biting tone when she neared them both at the desks.
"I do," Ada tilted her head up toward his senior officer with a look of disdain. "Your entire squad set my investigation back by months."
Jill was beside him then and the anger on her face caused a ripple to appear in her forehead before her expression smoothed over and that calculating look returned to her features.
"Your investigation, tell me about it," Jill said, her rage seemingly kept back by a training that served her in the moment.
"Bioweapons," Ada said, watching her carefully. "I was sent here for Annette Birkin, who we believe to be responsible for the research and for the leak that infected this city."
Jill huffed a laugh, "Is that what you're going with?"
BOOM!
Something thudded against a distant wall somewhere close to their position, and all three of their heads tilted toward the back wall of the S.T.A.R.S. office.
"What now?" Jill growled.
"No response from the radio?" Leon asked as he glanced over at her.
"No," she said, her sharp gaze landing on his. "We're on our own. We need to go find Carlos and search for Claire."
Jill turned toward a gate that was in a locked position near the computer. She tore her badge off her hip before she slotted a portion of it into the tower. The gate beside her rolled back a second later.
"Still need a gun, rookie?"
Leon moved toward her, gratefully took the shotgun she passed over to him, and the extra shells that came along with it.
"No gun for me?" Ada called in a lilting tone.
"Not until you tell me what you're desperately trying to hide," Jill called.
"Listen," Ada said with a razor's edge in her tone. "Now isn't the time for departmental pissing contests."
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you this," Jill rolled her head toward Ada. "But impersonating an FBI agent is a federal crime." She pumped the shotgun in her own hands. "So, let's hear about who you really are."
Roy, who had stayed near the door that entire time let out a low growl that drew both Jill and Leon's attention.
"Shit," Jill whispered.
Loud footsteps could be heard in the hall a few moments later.
"Hello?" Claire breathed into the phone.
"This is Lieutenant Daniel Matthews of the 2nd Platoon, 2nd Brigade in the 82nd Airborne Division," a rough voice called through the receiver. "We heard the radio message from Jill Valentine but couldn't respond."
With a shaky breath, she lifted her eyes to the approaching form of Carlos. He had taken Sherry's hand while he still held his gun in the other. When she met his eyes he gave her an upwards nod.
When she didn't immediately answer, the lieutenant continued, "Are you Jill Valentine?"
"No," Claire cleared her throat. "No, sir. I am Claire Redfield, one of the firefighters still within the city."
There was a fumbling sound across the phone line, as if the soldier was adjusting the phone in his ear. Someone was shouting in the background.
"I have someone here who wants to talk to you," the lieutenant said next.
"Hello?" a new voice bid into the phone. Detective Edward.
"Elliot?" Claire whispered. "You're alive. I—" She shut her eyes for a second before she covered her face. "Did everyone make it out? Are you safe?"
"Listen to me, Claire," Elliot said as the shouting seemed to continue behind him. "The situation is more complicated than we could have imagined. We've been trying to figure out what we can do given the circumstances but then we heard Jill on the radio. Is she at the station?"
"She is," Claire said before she opened her eyes and looked toward Carlos. "I haven't found her yet; I was on the other side of the station. Why? What's going on?"
"I need to give you back to the lieutenant, but I need you to listen to him." Elliot's voice had turned grave.
"Elliot," Claire said, clutching the phone with her other hand. "Did Marvin make it?"
The shouting was becoming louder, and Claire could recognize the voice as Kevin Ryman in the background now.
"He did, Claire," Elliot said after a pause. "He made it. You did just enough, and we got him here in time. They have a surgeon here. It's real rough circumstances for surgery, but he'll live if we can figure out how to get out of the mountains."
Claire's elation was cut off at the second half of his words when her eyebrows furrowed. "What—"
The scuffing sound returned before Lieutenant Matthews' voice sounded out once more, "Ms. Redfield, I need to talk to Jill Valentine."
Claire turned her eyes toward the other side of the building before she said, "I have to find her, can you call back? Can I call you back?"
"That would prove to be tricky," Lieutenant Matthews responded with something underlining his voice.
With her sore body beginning to make itself known and the desire for rest, Claire's patience was starting to wear thin.
"What the hell is going on, lieutenant?" she demanded.
"We're going to be required to make a report to command in the next six hours." Lieutenant Matthews sounded distracted. "When that happens, they're going to discover that we've killed our platoon leader and we've gone AWOL from mission objectives. When they realize that, Ms. Redfield, we'll no longer be able to help you."
"What are you saying?" Claire uttered.
"I'm saying that I'm going to call back in exactly one hour, and the directives we deliver to Jill Valentine may be the last chance you have to get out of that city with our assistance." The lieutenant let those words sink in for a moment before he continued, "Effectively immediately, the United States Strategic Command has assumed control of the situation. There are press briefings happening at this moment that will decide the fate of your city." The soldier's tone changed. "I can tell you that without even having stepped into your city what I think they're going to do about it."
"I understand," she breathed as her hands began to shake.
"No, Ms. Redfield, I don't believe you do," Lieutenant Matthews said in a soft voice. "One hour." And he hung up.
"What?" Carlos asked as she set the phone back into its cradle.
Claire opened her mouth and did her best to deliver the information to the man before her.
"Knew this operation was balls up," Carlos said quietly before he glanced down at Sherry who was clutching his hand with both of hers. "My platoon leader told us they were quarantining the city, but that makes it sound like…"
"Like they wouldn't be helping civilians in any manner whatsoever," Claire finished for him. "Are you not a part of the military's plan? How did they even let you through if that's the case?"
Carlos looked conflicted before he began to speak, "Let's go find—"
The thumping steps that were familiar to them both sounded out from the east hallway, and Claire spun when Andy's form came back into view.
Carlos pushed past Claire, and she jumped when the small form of Sherry latched on to her hip. Claire glanced down to see the two pairs of youthful eyes looking up at her.
"Claire?" Sherry's frightened voice asked in a question.
The machine gun in Carlos' hand rumbled as he proceeded to unload on the roaring face turning for them now.
When Carlos's gun clicked empty, Andy opened his now bleeding mouth and let out a roar that made Liam scream.
"Fair enough," Carlos uttered as he began to back toward Claire.
Andy's frame began to shudder when it lumbered toward one of the cots that lay splayed out in the center of the room.
"Oh, shit—" Carlos dove toward Claire and his shoulder impacted hers just as she viewed the cot flying toward them.
Lurching for the children, Claire found Carlos pulling Sherry to his chest and crouching low as Claire dropped beside him.
The cot clattered against the large statue behind them and fell to the ground with a groan to its metal frame.
"You rotten, son of a—" Carlos sputtered as he rose.
"His name is Andy!" Claire gritted out when she reached over, grabbed Sherry, and pulled her to her feet.
The frightened young girl was saying something, but Claire hushed her quickly.
"His name is what?" Carlos yelled as he reloaded the gun that was back in his hands and threw a confused and flustered look her way.
"Andy!"
Andy began to charge toward them.
"Andy, no! Stop it!" Carlos aimed the rifle once more and fired as he held his position. Andy stumbled from the inflicted injuries, but he was still making his way across the hall. Carlos glanced back at her once more. "I don't think that worked, Claire."
With a yank to Sherry's arm, Claire pulled the crying preteen along before the sound of the precinct doors crashed open at the entry of the hall.
For the second time that night, the events that occurred next seemed to happen in slow motion and Claire wondered what deity she had pissed off in her life to condone such irony.
Andy had been chasing her for the last hour, and as it stood, it was enough of a bad day to consider never leaving her house again should she make it out of her current nightmare alive.
What came through those precinct doors was what she had hoped to never see again.
But again, Claire knew her luck had never been that great.
"S.T.A.R.S." The creature with the permanent grin bellowed into the hall.
The creature looked as it had before, but the black garment that covered its form was singed and torn away in different areas. Purple fluid glistened over the portions of twisted looking skin that was visible, but it looked no less capable of tearing them apart.
Someone had injured it recently, but it hadn't been enough.
"I got nothin'," Carlos uttered in front of her.
Andy, who had been only feet from Carlos, turned his misshapen head toward the newest threat in the hall and let out a bellowing scream.
Carlos turned on his booted heel, threw the strap of his weapon across his shoulders before he picked up Sherry with the child strapped to her chest in the sling, and began to make for the west side doors.
"Move, move, move!" he yelled toward Claire.
Claire stood transfixed as she watched what used to be Officer Andy charge the larger creature she had met out on the streets of the Apple Inn.
But the creature from the Apple Inn only had eyes for her across the hall. Even as Andy crashed into its form, it took the creature a moment before it responded to Andy.
The blow Andy delivered to the monster with the permanent grin seemed to rock the foundation of the precinct when they crashed into the wall beside the doors.
Andy appeared to have more power in this moment, but as the seconds stretched before Claire's terrified mind, she observed as the creature in black seemed to have more sentience and patience over the transformed police officer.
With a large hand placed against Andy's screaming face, the secondary creature let out its own yell before something pierced through Andy's skull and the meaty fist of the one in black squeezed.
Andy's form became still as his face caved in the victorious monster's hand.
"Claire!"
She jolted at Carlos' voice, the sounds of the hall coming back to her in full force. The last thing she saw was the devastating creature drop Andy and take a step forward before she spun to follow Carlos through the library.
The pursuing footsteps of the creature were loud and progressively catching her while Claire struggled for breath.
She hadn't realized how fast it was when it had chased her previously. It would be on them in moments.
As Carlos flung the door to the unicorn room open, Claire grabbed the doorknob and met his eyes with her face scrunching up in resolution.
They wouldn't make it. It would outrun them and with Carlos' hands full, he wouldn't be able to stop what was coming.
"Protect those children!" Claire commanded fiercely.
"Claire!" Sherry sobbed as she turned her head from Carlos' neck.
Liam screamed at the young girl's chest and Claire could only find strength in what she needed to do.
Carlos' eyes were wide, but his jaw was set when Claire slammed the door between them closed.
The monster was upon her now, and only a deep-set instinct had her ducking when its fist swung for her and impacted the wall beside the stairs and the door. Books on the shelves fell to the floor from the force of it.
Claire lurched back to her feet and scrambled up the steps for the third floor.
"Come on!" she snarled as her hair whipped over her shoulder, her sweating hands slipping against the railing. "Come get me, fucker!"
"S.T.A.R.S." it declared, a boot upon the first step before it exploded after her.
For the second time, Claire scrambled through the third-floor balcony and toward the east side storage room where she had toppled the shelf to escape Irons.
There'd be no outsmarting the creature behind her, no clever tactic to truly bamboozle it with, and even Sebastian would be no match for it should he have decided to appear for a third time.
But she could lead it away.
Lead it away from those children, and from where she hoped Leon and Jill were safe.
As she had before, Claire found herself on the balcony with the yellow ladder on the outside patio. Not bothering to climb down the device, she leapt from the height and screamed upon her landing. The cracked ribs at her side stole her breath as she crashed to her knees on the second floor below.
The thud of the pursuing creature's weight rocked the ground beneath her before a large hand grabbed her by the vest. Her world went at a tilt when it lifted her, and before Claire had time to take her next breath, she was brought face-to-face with the devastating creature that hunted her now.
"S.T.A.R.S." Its breath was foul as it said the cursed word into her face.
With her tired feet dangling, Claire gritted her teeth as she looked into the white eyes she had encountered on the street with the Apple Inn survivors.
There was a hesitation then. Claire wasn't sure if the creature could create expressions from how stretched the skin was across its face, but even in those fragile seconds, she could tell it was caught up on something when it studied her.
Seeming to conclude itself, it jerked its arm, and she was flying backwards with its easy toss.
She impacted the ground of the outside area, and her head slammed against the lip of the roof. Dazed eyes opened to find herself on her side near the ledge of the precinct. Below, the side courtyard to the R.P.D. could be seen.
Claire rolled onto her back as the thundering steps approached her once more.
The night sky could finally be seen through the clouds parting overhead, and Claire let out a soft sound at the Vulpecula constellation she could spot above. With death at her front, Claire's concussed mind found her recalling the shape depicted for the star formation. Illustrated with a goose in the jaws of a fox in the constellation above, she laughed softly as fate mocked her one last time.
A boot lifted before her face, and Claire Redfield opened her mouth like the jaws of a fox in an explosive call to her fate.
"Shit," Jill whispered.
Loud footsteps could be heard in the hall a few moments after Jill's explicative, and both she and Leon were raising their shotguns when the door to the S.T.A.R.S. office flung open.
The panting form of Carlos met Leon's eyes, but Leon was looking past him. Past him and for the presence of Claire that appeared to be absent.
"What—" Jill began.
"Where is she?" Leon interrupted, his shotgun lowering as the screaming sound of Liam tore at his soul.
"Monster." Carlos was out of breath as he spoke and glanced at Jill. "The one chasing you. It's after her. Upstairs."
"Kennedy—" Jill warned when Leon shoved past the mercenary and the crying children.
He didn't hear what his superior officer was going to say. He couldn't hear anything anymore as honed muscles took him forward and through the hall.
Leon paused in the library while his eyes took in the hole in the wall beside the stairs. Taking two steps at a time, he willed his legs to move faster as he tore around the third-floor balcony area, leapt over an overturned shelf in the storage room, and burst through to the east side landing.
The door to the outside was open and a faint found caught in his ears when he stepped out into the fresh air.
The sight below only made him hesitate for a moment before that hand of wrath uncurled in his chest.
Wrath which had run through the generations of blood in his family. Wrath of the history that led its wealth through the suffering of others, Leon Kennedy Jr. had chosen a different hand to feed in his life, but the expression of violence that thrummed through him now was a call to the senior he never forgot.
Landing with a clatter of boots, he lifted the weighty shotgun in his arms and fired up at the skull of the creature that held a boot over Claire Redfield's face.
The close impact shot knocked the monster off kilter, but Leon didn't give it time to consider how bad it had fucked up.
The towering creature was attempting to turn toward him when Leon lifted a boot to deliver a swift kick in its side. The thing stumbled in a roar and a second shot from the firearm tore chunks away from its broad chest.
Purple fluid splattered to the ground, and it was a canvas of war for the last surviving son.
Leon backed the creature toward the lip of the roof as he delivered shot after shot at point blank range.
A formation of wrath, the story incomplete.
He had something to protect now.
And whatever motivation the thing had before him, it became obsolete to what drove all men forward. Purpose.
The creature's strength gave out beneath it, and with his boot rising again, Leon delivered one last kick that knocked the beast over the side of the roof and crashing to the ground below.
Like a creature of its own in his chest, the wrath curled inwards, and it slept once more when Leon turned for the woman who stared up at him from the ground.
The shotgun clattered to the roof and Leon was moving to his knees before Claire.
"Claire…" His hands touched her shaking arms and took in the upturned eyes that consumed his face.
"You came back." The words broke his heart.
"I'll always come back for you," he answered when he pulled her to him.
"You left me." Claire's face was pressed into his neck, the leather of her jacket scrunched up on her shoulders as he clutched her.
"I'll never do it again," he vowed when her arms wrapped around him.
He wasn't sure how long they sat like that, with him on his knees and her clutching him as if he'd disappear. He let her do so while her tears grew cold on his shirt collar and the shaking of her limbs became still against him.
"I know we don't have time," she began when he felt her pull her head back from him.
"We're making the time," he interrupted, a hand touching her cheek when he looked down at the woman who he wanted to challenge him first and challenge him last.
"Good," she retorted before she pressed her lips to his.
Whether she had kissed him or not, Leon knew three things when his mouth moved against hers.
One, he was falling in love with Claire Redfield, and he'd die to protect the opportunity she presented like a home to his wrath-wrought heart.
Three, he'd kill anything or anyone that got in between it.
"Hey!"
Claire broke their kiss to jerk her head toward the voice that called down to them now.
Carlos stood on the third-floor balcony that Leon had previously jumped off of.
"Not that I particularly want to interrupt, but we've got a few things to work out in here," Carlos called.
With a sigh, Leon decided he wouldn't enact that third truth; he really liked the mercenary.
"Duty calls," Claire huffed before she looked back up toward him once more.
Leon retrieved the fallen shotgun and was careful as he helped her stand back to her feet. When she stumbled, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.
Above, Carlos had disappeared back into the precinct while he and Claire turned for the second-floor hall.
"I've got a lot to fill you in on," Claire said as they very slowly made their way toward the main hall.
"Ditto," he said with a sigh. "I'm running out of room to be surprised, honestly."
"That's probably for the best," Claire hummed with her good humor shining through the injuries he knew she must be nursing.
"Oh, yeah?" he tilted his head down toward her when they stepped back out into the ruins of the main hall. "Why is that?"
Jill, Carlos, Sherry, Liam, and Roy were all waiting for them near the reception desk. The fallen form of the creature he and Carlos had fought previously was lying near the front doors.
Ada was missing.
"Do you like kids?" Claire asked, bringing his attention back toward her.
"Claire!" The little blonde girl he had seen previously was beaming up at their position on the second floor.
Carlos smirked up at them while he held a now quiet Liam.
"I think you might know the answer to that," Leon said, now turning back to her gaze.
"Well…" Claire trailed off. "What if I told you there might be a package deal in all of this?"
"You're not gettin' off that easy," Leon quipped. "I get to pick the schools they go to though."
The laugh she released beside him was like coming home.