Chapter One
Claire Redfield squeezed between the overstocked shelves of "Bundle of Joy" boutique, a place where pastel hues assaulted the senses and the scent of baby powder was almost thick enough to taste. Two years earlier than the cataclysmic events that would come to define her life, she was simply a woman on a mission for the perfect baby shower gift.
The store was cramped, its shelves packed tightly with an overwhelming assortment of baby items - each one seemingly more essential than the last. It was enough to make anyone feel claustrophobic, but for someone like Claire, who had survived countless encounters in confined spaces with horrifying creatures, it brought on a unique kind of stress. She moved through the narrow aisles, taking deep breaths to keep her nerves under control. Her fingers absentmindedly brushed against a row of soft blankets as she searched for the perfect gift.
"Talking teddy bears, self-rocking cribs... What happened to good old stuffed animals and lullabies?" she muttered under her breath. Her voice carried a note of frustration, like a lone fighter struggling against an insidious, invisible foe. It gnawed at her, this indecision—so foreign and unwelcome. She could outmaneuver flesh-hungry zombies, but here, amidst the soft melodies emanating from a nearby crib mobile, Claire was adrift in a sea of pastel uncertainty.
She shook her head in frustration, feeling increasingly out of her element. Determined and resourceful as she was, she couldn't shake the nagging thought that she was utterly unqualified to pick out something for a baby. "Come on, Claire," she whispered to herself, a pep talk meant to invoke the resilience that had pulled her from the depths of despair time and again. "It's just a baby shower, not a biohazard outbreak."
As she stood there, indecisive and disheartened, Claire's thoughts turned briefly to her brother, Chris. She couldn't help but wonder what he would say if he were here, watching her agonize over something so seemingly trivial. She could almost hear his voice, gruff with affectionate annoyance, urging her to "just pick something already" and reminding her that it was the thought that counted.
"Easy for you to say," Claire whispered to the absent Chris, her lips quirking into a half-smile despite her frustration. In truth, she envied him - his unwavering determination and focus, qualities that seemed to elude her in moments like these.
With a resolve that had carried her through the bleakest of times, she turned towards a display of handcrafted mobiles, each depicting scenes from various fairy tales. As charming as they were, these stories of monsters and brave heroes hit too close to home, the lines between fiction and her reality blurred and frayed.
The wail of an electric guitar sliced through the din of chattering parents and crying infants, a stark contrast to the cutesy lullabies that were playing overhead. Claire's phone erupted with the rebellious chords of Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" from her jacket pocket, the chosen anthem for calls from her brother. She winced as several heads turned in her direction, eyes narrowed in silent reproach for disturbing the peace of their retail sanctuary.
"Sorry," Claire muttered, though her apology was more reflex than genuine contrition. She navigated past a fortress of stuffed animals and teething rings, her boots clicking briskly on the linoleum floor like the countdown of a bomb she needed to defuse. In the battlefield of retail, she was suddenly the enemy, her phone a grenade of disruption in the quiet mundanity of their lives, even as the musical plea for divine intervention chased her.
She burst out of the store, the door swinging shut behind her with a definitive thud that partitioned her from the stifling air and judgmental stares. The parking lot was a canvas of concrete, dotted with vehicles standing like silent guardians over the everyday normalcy she both craved and resented.
Pressing the phone to her ear, she leaned back against the cool glass of the storefront, the world around her momentarily fading into the background. "Hola, big brother! Hope you're calling with the best news ever," she chirped, the corners of her lips tilting upward despite the day's frustrations.
He sighed, the weight of his exhaustion apparent even through the phone. "The mission was a bust, Claire. But I wanted to thank you and TerraSave for helping us find Old Man Spencer."
Claire's smile faded like a mirage under harsh sunlight. She had envisioned this moment differently: the capture, the victory, the justice. Her company, TerraSave, prided itself on combatting bioterrorism, and pooling their resources with the BSAA was supposed to be a turning point. "He wasn't there?" she asked, the question laced with a mix of disbelief and disappointment.
"Oh, no, he was there alright," Chris replied, his tone darkening. "But he was already dead by the time Jill and I found him. Going by his security feed, he'd been murdered almost a full day earlier… Too good for the old bastard, if you ask me."
Claire clenched her jaw, her nails digging into the palm of her hand. The thought of Oswell Spencer - the man responsible for so much pain and destruction - escaping justice infuriated her. But she knew she needed to stay focused on the present, on what could still be done.
She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach, forcing a smile as she spoke into the phone. "Careful, Chris. You're starting to sound cynical... Just think, it's one less employee of Umbrella that we have to worry about, and a big fish at that."
"Yeah, a big fish that I'd hoped might lead us to a bigger, more dangerous one," Chris responded with a bitter edge to his voice. "Instead... Wesker's the one who killed him, Claire."
Claire blinked in surprise, her heart leaping into her throat. "What? But... I thought they were in the same boat," she stammered, struggling to comprehend the revelation.
"Since when have you known Wesker to be in the same boat with anyone?" Chris countered, his tone darkening.
She sighed, unable to shake the nagging feeling that her brother was letting his personal history with Wesker cloud his judgment. After all, they had once been on the same team, and she knew how hard it was for Chris to accept the betrayal.
The seagulls overhead cawed loudly, their harsh cries echoing through the cool air as Claire leaned against the brick wall of the store, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the tension radiating from Chris even through the phone, and it sent a shiver down her spine.
"To put it mildly, Wesker and Spencer had a difference of opinion," Chris said, his voice guarded. "The old man's madness ran pretty deep. That's all I can tell you."
Claire bit her lip, sensing that there was more to the story than he was letting on. It must be classified information, she thought, her worry for her brother growing by the second. She knew how relentless he could be in his pursuit of justice, but what if it led him straight into danger?
"Have you got any idea where this bigger fish has gone?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Chris chuckled bitterly. "No, but I won't stop searching, Claire. It would be nice to finally close that chapter."
"Promise me something, big brother," Claire said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes scanning the busy street around her. "When you do find him, be careful. I remember that he has just as big a grudge against you as you do against him. And I'm not ready to lose you yet."
Claire released a heavy sigh, her breath momentarily fogging the glass door of the baby boutique as she watched another customer exit. Feeling mischievous and wanting to lighten the mood, she turned back to her phone.
"Hey Chris, what kind of gift would you pick for a baby shower if you had to?"
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line; Claire knew she'd successfully distracted him from his dark thoughts. "Damned if I know," he finally answered. "Why do you ask?"
"Never mind," Claire chuckled, leaning against the store's brick exterior. "I'll tell you if I see you for Christmas this year."
"Maybe," Chris replied noncommittally. "We'll see how things go."
"Speaking of which," Claire said, glancing around at the bustling street, "where are you now?"
"Jill and I just got to the airport." There was a hint of weariness in his voice, and Claire felt a pang of concern for her brother. "We're about to catch our flight back."
"Safe travels, then," she said softly. "Talk to you later, big brother. Love you."
"Love you too, cheesehead," Chris teased, making Claire roll her eyes affectionately. She hated that nickname, but it brought back memories of their childhood together – simpler times before the world had been tainted by Umbrella's corruption.
"Bye, Chris," she murmured, and ended the call.
At least Wesker wasn't there when Chris and Jill showed, she thought to herself, trying to find solace in the fact that her brother had narrowly avoided a potentially deadly confrontation. That could have ended badly in any number of ways since they wouldn't have expected him.
"Excuse me, are you having trouble finding something?" a masculine voice asked suddenly, jolting Claire out of her reverie.
She blinked and turned to see a young man with tousled black hair peeking out from behind a storefront pillar across from her. A nearly-expended cigarette dangled between his fingers, and he looked at her sheepishly, as if realizing he'd inadvertently eavesdropped on her private moment.
"Sorry," he apologized, a genuine note of contrition in his voice. "I didn't mean to scare you, or listen in. I just heard you asking your brother for advice."
The sunlight streaming through the leaves above cast dappled shadows on Claire's face as she regarded the stranger before her, his features softened by the warm glow. "How'd you know I was talking to my brother?" she asked warily, her voice tinged with suspicion.
"Ah," he said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Safe bet, really. You called your phone buddy 'big brother,' after all." He flashed her a disarming grin, and Claire felt her defenses lowering ever so slightly.
"Fair enough," she conceded, her curiosity piqued. "You said you might be able to help me find a gift? What's your experience in baby shower shopping?"
"Actually, I'm here looking for a gift for my older sister. She's expecting her second child." As he spoke, he pulled a small bottle of air freshener from his jacket pocket and spritzed himself. "Do me a favor and see if I still smell like smoke?"
Claire hesitated, feeling foolish, but she stepped forward and took a quick sniff. "I think you're good."
"Thanks," he said, smiling. "You wouldn't believe the looks I got last time."
Glancing down at her phone, Claire recalled the "offensive" ringtone that had interrupted her browsing earlier. "Oh, trust me. I can believe it."
He nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes, and led her back inside the store. As they browsed the shelves together, Claire found herself marveling at how quickly this stranger had managed to put her at ease. It was as though, for a fleeting moment, the weight of her past had been lifted, allowing her to breathe freely once more.
Elliott's confident stride led them to a corner of the store that Claire had bypassed, her eyes following him as he made a beeline for the baby books. She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his choice, letting out a snarky remark.
"Really? Baby books? Out of everything in this store, you go straight for the books?"
"Hey, don't knock it," he countered with an easy grin, picking up a cloth-bound volume and flipping through its pages. "Books last longer than furniture, clothes, or utensils. They're like seeds; you plant them now, and they grow with the child."
"Interesting point," Claire murmured, her gaze drifting across the titles until one caught her attention—a board book adorned with vibrant illustrations and a title that tugged at nostalgic strings within her. "This one," she declared, plucking the book from the shelf. "My mother used to read it to me."
"Good choice," he approved with a nod, casting her a companionable look that eased the knot of tension in her chest just a fraction more.
For a moment, surrounded by the echoes of childhood innocence, the looming threats of viral terror and scientific hubris seemed distant notions. Here in this cramped store, it was just Claire and an unexpected ally, sharing a piece of normalcy in a world that had forgotten the meaning of the word.
"By the way, I'm Elliott Gregory," he said, extending his hand for a friendly shake.
"Claire Redfield," she replied, taking his hand and feeling the firm grip of his handshake.
"Nice to meet you, Claire," Elliott said, releasing her hand. "So, now that we've conquered the baby shower gift, how about grabbing some coffee? There's a great place just around the corner."
Claire hesitated for a split second, her mind racing through potential scenarios. What if this charming stranger turned out to be another person she couldn't trust? But then again, what if he was just a regular guy trying to make a connection in a world that seemed determined to pull people apart?
"Sure," she finally agreed, allowing herself to take a leap of faith. "It's a date."