-1
I think this one should go to Rose-Strife and SlayterWesker on DA cause they both kick SO much ass. You should go have a prod at them. Now -pokes-
--
Claire lies awake. She can't sleep. She doesn't know why, because she's certainly tired enough to fall asleep.
It's just that her mind won't let her.
She's tried singing to herself. For an hour. That didn't work.
She's counted sheep but by the time she got to three thousand, she was so wide awake, a cup of coffee couldn't have done a better job.
She's tried thinking of something to dream about, but its not helpful when you starting thinking of monsters.
She rolls onto her side, gazing at the clock, the one that glows an obnoxious green in the darkness of the room. It helpfully displays the time, unsurprisingly, with the date and month in the corner.
What little tiredness there is in her mind is jolted away.
It's almost two years since Chris died.
Two years without her big brother.
Two years without his comforting embrace.
The display changes.
Midnight, plus one minute.
Two years to the day since Chris died.
She sighs and rolls over again, trying to get away from the bright glare of the clock, her heart giving a painful twinge.
It's always an awkward day. No one knows what to say. No one knows what to do.
But every time, it gets a little less awkward. A little less…unnatural.
It's the same with his birthday.
But both days will be lost to the soon.
Claire knows it all to well.
The same thing happened when their…her…parents died. They soon forgot the pain, and they learned to live without them.
They are all slowly forgetting Chris.
But Claire will not forget.
--
Something's wrong with Jill.
Claire can tell from the way she's hunched over a cup of ice cold coffee, dark black bags drooping down from her eyes, hair lank and dirty about her pale features.
Something is wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.
So she asks.
"Jill, what's wrong?"
--
Someone's speaking to her. She lifts her head, looking at the speaker with exhausted eyes. It's Claire.
"What?"
"I said, what's wrong? You look awful."
Before she can answer, the front door bursts open, the resounding bang of it sends a flash of pain through her skull.
She whimpers, clutching her throbbing head. It hurts. Maybe she shouldn't have drunk so much last night…But she had to, there'd been no other way to -
"I found him!"
--
Carlos bursts in the front door, waving a package, breathless and frantic, waving the brown thing like a storm survivor waving at a ship in the distance.
"I found him!"
He slams the door shut behind him, throwing the package on the table. Its contents spill out as it skids over the marked surface.
Maps, schematics, codes, diagrams, pages of text…
"I found Wesker!"
The exhausted expression on Jill's face drops away and a determined one replaces it. "Then we go after him."
"What about Rebecca and Barry?"
Jill looks up at Claire, frowning.
"We wait for them then. But we have to be ready."
Claire locks eyes with Jill.
We'll make him pay.
They both will.
--
Her hands are shaking as she runs them over the holsters, feeling the smooth, clean metal beneath her questing finger tips.
They're finally doing it.
Going after Wesker.
Something she'd dreamt about since the team had come home without him, Jill sobbing her broken heart out on Carlos' shoulder, Rebecca, mute and tense. Barry had told her, and she just…
Her hand closes over the belt and she pulls it from the drawer, lifting out the knife from its leather sheath, gently setting the material on her bed as she found the cleaning cloth beside it.
One last clean before they set off.
One last clean before the silver metal becomes stained in infected blood.
--
Barry looks over the maps spread out before him.
"You're sure about this information?"
Carlos nods.
"Where did you get it?"
"A reliable source, trust me on that."
Barry eyes him, frowning slightly.
"Carlos, are you sure about-"
"Yes! Now what do you think? Can we get in there?"
Barry glances back at the papers.
"We can avoid the mass of scientists and guards on the upper levels, if we can get in undetected. It says here-" he points to a section of text he'd highlighted on another piece of paper. "-that 'the Human BOWs inhabit the two underground bottom levels.' There are three levels beneath the surface." he pointed again at the map. "Which means we have to traverse through two levels before we get near Wesker." He sighed heavily. "There's something else that bothers me…"
"What?"
"It says…Human BOWs. Plural. I think…Claire's friend…I think he might be there too."
"And if she sees him…" Carlos frowned.
"It might compromise the mission."
"So what do we do?"
--
Her fist slams down on the table, thumping it, all the anger she feels channelling down into the limb, into the nails biting into her palm. Tears gather at the edges of her sight, but she blinks the away angrily.
"You can't leave me here! I'm not staying! I have to go!"
"Look Claire, it's far to dangerous for-"
"For me to go? And every other god damn mission wasn't? Chris didn't think so! Chris knew I could handle myself!"
"Not on his last mission he didn't! He didn't take you for a reason!"
"Don't give me that shit Barry! I am more than capable of looking after myself and you damn well know it!"
Jill covers her ears and retreats into her room, not wanting to watch this confrontation, so like the last one the siblings had had before he left…
The arguing pair don't notice the door shutting, the soft sound inaudible over their yells.
"You're not going and that's final!" Barry slams his own fist down on the table, eyes blazing. "Chris would agree with me!"
"You don't know what he would say because he's dead and it's your fault!"
She spins around and storms into her own room, tears freely running down her face.
"Barry… you might have a little harsh on her…" Carlos touches the big man's shoulder, turning to face him. He's a little shocked to see him with a tear running down his cheek. "Barry, it wasn't your fault. You know that. It was no one's fault. No one could have helped him."
Barry reaches up and wipes it away, blinking furiously. "Y-yeah, your right." but he couldn't help but think it was his fault. He was the closest…it was his responsibility.
--
She watches at the window as they drive off, wondering if she'll see them again.
There's every chance not a one of them will return, it's already happened before.
She wonders how much it'll hurt this time round.
Turning her head, she spies her bike keys hanging on the wall beside the door.
Her guns are loaded.
Her knife is clean.
The tank is full.
Time to take revenge.