Disclaimer - I own no legal rights to any established Resident Evil characters or trademarks.
"Guest" - Thank you so much for your review! We'll be checking back in on Ashley momentarily. But in the meantime . . .
"Over here, Supercop!"
She returned his attempt at a welcoming smile with an icy gaze as she took a seat across from his at his table. Even he knew his charm could only get him so far this time.
"I oughta slap you across the face right now."
His haircut and shave were different from the last time she'd seen him. They were still shaggy just . . . less so. Maybe a six or seven o'clock shadow instead of a five.
He sighed.
"If this is about that night in Barbados," he said. "We both talked about where we saw the relationship, or whatever you'd call what you and I had, going. You said you weren't looking for anything long term. I thought I was doing you a favor by not waking you up for awkward good byes."
"It's more about the next two decades," Jill responded. "And the way you didn't even bother trying to keep in touch. Until now."
"Look. I wouldn't have reached out to you if this wasn't important."
A waitress sat a glass down in front of each of them.
"I took the liberty of ordering your drink," Carlos said. "I hope you're still not picky about your tequila, because the well stuff's good enough for me."
Jill said nothing, but took a long sip of the tequila on the rocks. She could feel eyes on her, and took a quick glance at her surroundings. No one seemed to be spying as much as they were leering. Her skin didn't have quite the smoothness and glow it used to, her dark hair was slowly beginning to fade and, while she still kept in shape, she wasn't quite what she had once been. But the appreciative glances flattered her at the same time they skeeved her out.
Carlos broke the awkward silence with a manila envelope.
Jill opened it, reflecting on how much of her life had been spent poring over photos and files.
"You're still on a crusade."
"It's the only way I can look myself in the mirror," Carlos said. "After finding out what Umbrella was, what they did."
"You couldn't know," Jill said. "And your job was to mitigate the damage they did. No reason to still be beating yourself up over it. Besides, that Umbrella is dead. Several times over."
"You know how it is. You kill it once, it just comes back. Like a hydra's head."
"Or a zombie."
Jill glanced at the photograph of men in perfectly tailored business suits, present at some kind of ribbon cutting ceremony, their eyes cold and soulless.
"Umbrella had other businesses. Non-pharmaceutical, hard to tie to them without digging deep and getting some dirt under your fingernails."
Jill moved on to the next photograph in the folder.
"The Hotel Malebolge," Jill said, looking over the photograph of the high-rise. "Doesn't sound that welcoming."
"It's on a small vacation island, off the coast," Carlos explained. "There have been some scary reports coming from that area lately. People getting sick. Real sick. And cannibal murders."
"This all sounds so familiar," Jill said. "Let me guess. Underground laboratory, where they're conducting insane experiments, under the hotel basement."
"That's what I'm thinking," Carlos said. "And it's scary how casually you're able to say that."
Jill took another sip of tequila.
She placed the photo of the hotel to the side and found herself looking at a photograph of a woman, around the same age she was, and three young children. Two boys, one girl. Playing together in the front yard of a suburban home.
"That photo was sent to me as a threat," Carlos said. "Something to let me know that they know that I'm on to them."
"So they're your . . .?"
"My wife, Maria," Carlos said. "And the kids. Ariana, Joseph, and Carlos Jr."
Jill felt several emotions flooding over her, all at once, but the strongest sensation was . . .
"Deja vu," Jill said. "This whole thing is giving me the worst case of it. When did this kind of thing become my whole life?"
She flipped over to a grainy photograph of shady men in lab coats.
"I've got my family someplace safe. For now. But I can't go on knowing those bastards are threatening my family. And I can't stop thinking about what they'd do to my family if I let this go much further than between the two of us. That's why I had to track you down. I need someone watching my back. Someone I can trust."
"And I'm the only one?"
"Only one who's still alive, anyway."
Jill finished her glass of tequila.
"Dammit, Carlos. You can't just show me a picture of adorable kids and then expect me not to have a heart."
"There's the Valentine I remember," Carlos said, his smile slowly starting to return. "I had an informant on the inside. Wouldn't give away much. Just enough to whet my appetite."
"Well, if you buy me another drink or two, and promise me you're bringing plenty of ammo, maybe I wouldn't mind going in and taking a look around with you."
In a different open-aired cafe, Daniel Fabron was taking a moment to admire his eclair and cup of espresso.
"It is so important to take the time to appreciate the little things," he said. "Don't you think?"
"No, I don't," the voice on the other end of the phone said, curt and British and distinctly feminine. "Stop wasting time. We need you here to assume the post at the security station."
"You can't rush art," Daniel responded, equally curt. "I'll be there shortly."
He ended the call and looked up into the sympathetic eyes of the barista.
"It always sucks when work calls when you're trying to relax."
"Not at all," Daniel said, smiling slyly at the young girl. "I happen to very much enjoy my work."
"Wish I could say the same."
"But what is not to love?" replied the Frenchman. "You have fresh air, fine coffee, and these wonderful pastries."
He ripped the end off of the eclair, dipping it into the now dripping cream filling before popping it into his mouth.
"I will be done here soon enough," he said. "If you'd like to bring me the bill."
She nodded politely. He downed his espresso as he looked back up, at an apartment in a tall building on the other side of the street.
He tapped his cellphone screen and massive flames burst through the window he was staring at, the loud boom echoing all around him.
As panicked screams erupted around him, accompanied by the shattering of hastily dropped dishes, he reacted as well, jumping to his feet and dropping the phone in one movement, but being careful not to drop the remainder of his eclair.
And so the traitor in their midst was dealt with.
"Sacre bleu!" he shouted, jumping up and down in what looked to everyone around him like panic, making sure to crush the phone completely beneath the heel of his shoe. More softly, he added, "Oui, it is true. Find a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life."
He stepped past his slack-jawed barista, handing her a huge wad of cash as he did so.
"That ought to cover it."
Enough fun. Time to head to the office.