Chapter 3

Chris was sitting at the bar in Harry's Pub next to his best friend Barry. The older man was obviously a little drunk. This was no surprise after the amount of Daniels he had put down at the recent party. Chris had been counting the rising tab nervously with each swig. Chris had refused to drink himself because it would make getting home a pain and the large dent in his starting bonus did not need any help. But he loved Barry enough to let him have one more and was happy to see his smile. Besides, everyone else had already left.

"Thanks Barry. This has been a hell of a night."

"Congratulations," Barry said chugging back a bottle of beer. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather have on Point than you. I also can't think of anyone I'd rather have drive me home than you. I hate late night taxi rides. Drivers are always pissed they're up late even though it's their damn job."

Chris laughed. He had finally found his niche. S. T. A. R. S. was a motley group, but a fun one at that. For the last three hours he had traded stories with everyone from Frost the Bandit, nicknamed for his bandanna, to the Bravo Team pilots Edward Dewey and Kevin Dooley. The only people missing had been Marini and Wesker. Chris had wished he could talk more with them. He had never met Marini, and Wesker was a local legend.

"I'm gonna throw you a bone tonight," said Barry interrupting Chris's thoughts. "Now we honest to God thought you'd be splitting the tab with the new Field Medic. But turns out she really is eighteen."

"Damn," said Chris. An eighteen-year-old serving with S. T. A. R. S. She had to be good. She had to be the best in the state to even be considered. "What's her name?"

"Rebecca Chambers. She ain't official or anything yet. Might not ever be. Marini's still not happy with the age problem. It's probably why they weren't here. I'm guessing it'll be least a month before this whole thing gets squared away. Anyway, I'm gonna pay for half the drinks. You owe me though."

"Sure." Chris chuckled to himself. He knew Barry did not really expect to be paid back. He probably wouldn't accept the money if Chris offered it. "How's Aiken by the way."

"You'd think a boy that Irish could hold more alcohol," laughed Barry. "No one but me and him had more than two drinks and he was drunk as can be by number three. That's real sad. All he had was beer. Oh well. He'll be fine by tomorrow. Damn lucky we're out of action with all the missing positions. He'll have a hell of a hangover, but he won't have a gun. Ah. Anyway what'd you think of the rest of the team?"

"Frost is a cool guy. He's a bit loud, though."

"Yeah, but you learn to love it. If you think Aiken and Sully are funny, just wait until Horror Movie Wednesday with Frost. No matter how scary the movie is, he'll make the whole thing a joke before the opening credits are finished. What you think of the flyboys?"

Chris thought for a second. "Dewey and Dooley were great. Did you know they were military boys too?"

"Yep. Double-D, we call them. Good fellows."

"I didn't get much of a chance to speak with Vickers."

"He's a shy kid," said Barry. "We call him Chickenheart because of it. But give him a chance. He might surprise you. He's got a good head on his shoulders. Now I have something important to ask you."

"Shoot"

Barry leaned in for confidentiality, "Wesker and I are reviewing a candidate for Alpha Team's Rear Security tomorrow. I know you're a rookie yourself, but we're all pretty damn new. S. T. A. R. S. has only been around a couple of months. I was thinking, maybe, you could help us review the recruit. You know, peer feedback and all."

"I don't know," said Chris, "I have tomorrow off. I was planning to spend it with Claire." said Chris.

"Is she any better?"

Chris thought of how hard the last year had been on the two of them. Claire was two months away from attending her first year of college. She should have already been in her second, but college was put on hold when their parents were killed in a car wreck. It was this tragedy that finalized Chris's decision to abandon the military. Comforting his sister was more important, and so was his own time to mourn.

"Yeah," Chris finally spoke, "she's doing better."

"Hey, all I'm asking is you watch the range tests," said Barry. "It'll take an hour at most."

Chris sighed. "What's his name?"

"It's a she. Jill Valentine, twenty-four-years-old. I've seen her in action. She's on the Raccoon City Bomb Squad. She's great with advanced security systems. Hell, she's even good with picking locks the old fashioned way. She's a damn master of unlockin'."

"Go easy on the drinks, Barry."

"Sorry. But look. I've never seen her shoot a gun. I mean, she's obviously pretty good if she's caught Wesker's eye. But we might already have a fresh Field Medic and I don't want anything else slowing us down. So what you think? You interested?"

"You sure others won't take this as favoritism?" asked Chris.

Barry hadn't thought about that. He rubbed his hands across the surface of the bar: a nervous twitch he developed after someone accidentally detonated a plastic explosive near him during the Gulf War. Barry had to make sure the world wasn't rocking under him. "Sullivan will be there too. And I bet you've already heard about our cameras. Don't worry. It'll be Wesker and Marini that make the call. You, me, and Sully are just there for feedback."

"Well," said Chris in resignation, "why not?"