The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an unflattering hue over the cramped office space. Claire's fingers tapped rapidly on her keyboard, a symphony of urgency as she desperately tried to secure a new venue for the fundraiser. Her blue eyes darted across the screen, frustration furrowing her brow as each search result came up fruitless.
"Is there truly not one suitable place left?" she muttered under her breath, both annoyed and disheartened.
"Ms. Redfield?" The receptionist's voice crackled through the intercom, breaking into her thoughts. "You have a visitor down here. Says he's come in as a volunteer."
A volunteer? Now? Claire sighed but pushed up from her chair, smoothing out her red hair before heading downstairs. As she rounded the corner, she spotted him – Elliott Gregory, standing nervously by the reception desk, his brown hair slightly tousled and that warm smile of his playing on his lips.
Claire couldn't help but chuckle. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon."
Elliott's cheeks flushed a rosy shade, but he didn't back down. "I thought I'd take my chances. Couldn't pass up an opportunity to see you again."
She felt a flutter of warmth at his words but shook her head. "I appreciate the sentiment, Elliott, but it's really not a good time."
His shoulders drooped, and disappointment flickered in his eyes. "Oh. I understand." He hesitated, then added softly, "Was just hoping to help out, y'know?"
Something about the earnestness in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. Claire glanced back at the staircase, then made a split-second decision. "Tell you what," she said with a sigh, "I could use a break. How about we grab lunch together?"
"Really?" His eyes lit up, the change in demeanor almost comical. "I'd love that."
"Wait here, okay? I just need to grab my things," Claire told Elliott, a sudden urgency in her voice. With a quick nod, she dashed back upstairs to her office.
Upon entering the room, she spotted her cellphone lying haphazardly on her desk and cursed under her breath. RogueChild's mysterious email warning her to keep track of her phone echoed in her mind. How could she have been so careless?
"Going out for lunch?" a coworker asked, interrupting her thoughts.
"Uh, yeah," Claire replied absently, her gaze still fixed on her phone.
"Can you grab some takeout for us?" another colleague chimed in. Soon, the request snowballed, with several other employees joining in. Sighing, Claire picked up her phone and sent a quick message to the receptionist, letting her know that she'd be a few minutes longer and asking her to inform Elliott.
Claire and Elliott drove separately to an Americana restaurant just a block away. As they walked towards the entrance, Elliott glanced at the pink vest Claire was wearing, his eyes lingering on the words "Made in Heaven" printed on the back.
"Are you sure you're not an angel, Claire?" he teased, his eyes twinkling.
She playfully narrowed her eyes. "Call me an angel one more time, and I'll ditch you right here."
Elliott laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Inside, they found a cozy booth and settled in, scanning the menu before placing their orders. The atmosphere was warm, and the scent of home-cooked meals drifted through the air.
As they waited for their food, Elliott leaned in, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "You know, someone fighting for human rights like you has to be some kind of saint."
Claire shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. "Don't be too sure about that," she said, recalling a darker chapter in her organization's history. "Last year, we had a large group of volunteers who took things too far. They engaged in radical behavior against a pharmaceutical company called Wilpharma and harassed a US senator."
"Wow," Elliott said, his eyes widening in surprise. "Well, I can assure you that's not something I would ever do."
The clink of silverware against plates filled the air as Claire chuckled, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "You know, Elliott, it's generally a better idea to show you're a good person rather than just saying it."
Elliott's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he stammered, "Y-yeah, you're right. Can we start over so I can prove I'm not a total idiot?"
"Hey, you're being a bit hard on yourself, Romeo," Claire teased, her eyes dancing with amusement. But as the words left her lips, an odd shadow crossed Elliott's face, like a dark cloud obscuring the sun. The warmth in his brown eyes seemed to vanish momentarily, replaced by something haunted.
"Did I say something wrong?" Claire asked, concern knitting her brow.
"No, it's not you," Elliott said quickly, his gaze momentarily distant. "You just stirred up a bad memory, that's all." He paused, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself for what was to come. "Hypothetically speaking, do you think people are deserving of a happy ending?"
His question caught Claire off guard, stirring up her own demons from the past. She blinked back the memories, forcing a smile onto her lips. "That's what we all strive for, I suppose. But life doesn't always hand us what we want… And this doesn't sound like a hypothetical question."
Before Elliott could respond, their orders arrived, giving them a brief respite from the heavy conversation. As they began to eat, the subject gradually turned to movies, and upon finding out that Claire had a penchant for horror films, Elliott's curiosity was piqued.
"What's your favorite horror movie, then?" he asked between bites of his burger.
"Lost Boys," she replied without hesitation. Elliott raised an eyebrow in playful judgment.
"Interesting choice. So, what's your type—bad boy or boy-next-door?" His teasing grin returned.
"Subtle, Elliott. Real subtle." Claire rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "And if I had to guess, I'd say you're the boy-next-door type."
"Guilty as charged," he admitted with a chuckle, taking another bite of his meal.
The low hum of conversation in the restaurant seemed to fade to the background as Claire's cellphone buzzed violently against the table. The sudden noise startled her, causing her grip on her coffee cup to falter and hot liquid to slosh dangerously close to the rim.
"Sorry about that," she said, glancing down at the screen to see a text message from one of her co-workers.
Elliott leaned in, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Everything okay?"
Claire sighed, running a hand through her vibrant red hair. "It's just that we recently received a promised hefty donation for our human rights organization, but we're struggling to find a new venue for the fundraiser by the weekend."
"Who's the donor?" he asked, genuine curiosity etched in the lines of his forehead.
"Um," Claire hesitated, taken aback by his sudden curiosity. "Why do you ask?"
Elliott chuckled sheepishly. "I'm a journalist. Can you blame me? Curiosity is in my nature."
She couldn't help but smile back, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Fair enough."
Elliott's gaze grew serious, and he hesitated before asking, "How would you react if I said I could help you out?"
"Help me?" Claire raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "How?"
"I know someone who hosts private gatherings for banks and law firms at a lodge on the outskirts of town. I could cash in a favor and get you the space." Elliott's warm brown eyes held a glimmer of hope, making it difficult for Claire to refuse.
"Really? That seems almost too good to be true," she said, her skepticism tempered by gratitude.
"Or simply just fate," he said, his smile returning. "Maybe the universe brought us together for a reason."
Claire considered his words, weighing the risks against the potential benefits. In the end, she decided to trust him, no matter how tenuous that trust might be. "Alright, let's give it a shot. Thank you, Elliott."
"Of course." He finished his food quickly, paid for his meal, and stood up, his gaze fixed on her. "I'll step outside and make the call."
Claire nodded, watching as he left the restaurant with a sense of unease gnawing at the back of her mind. Was she making the right decision? Trusting a relative stranger, even one as charming and well-intentioned as Elliott, went against her instincts honed by years of survival.
As she sipped her coffee and stared out the window, Claire couldn't help but wonder if she was being too paranoid. After everything she had been through, it was hard to let her guard down. But maybe, just maybe, fate had finally decided to give her a break.
Claire's fingers tapped a rhythm on the counter as she paid for her own meal, the server's pen scratching out the total on her bill. The soft hum of conversation swirled around her, but her thoughts were focused elsewhere. With one task completed, she placed the takeout order for her office.
The sun glinted off the chrome of parked cars as Claire stepped out of the restaurant, her mind swirling with a mix of hope and uncertainty. She clutched her takeout bags, their greasy bottoms leaving a residue on her hands. As she scanned the area for Elliott, she found him near his car, back turned to her, phone pressed to his ear.
"…She can't know! Please don't say anything." The urgency in his voice sent an icy shiver down her spine.
Claire's brow furrowed, unease creeping up her spine like icy tendrils. Was he talking about her? She shook her head, dismissing the thought as paranoia. So many years of fighting for survival had left her suspicious of everyone, and it wasn't fair to project that onto Elliott. He had been nothing but kind and helpful so far.
"Everything okay?" Her voice was soft, not wanting to startle him.
Elliott spun around, eyes wide with surprise. He quickly composed himself, plastering on a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, everything's fine. My friend agreed to host the event at his lodge. We're all set."
"Really? That's amazing!" Relief surged through her, momentarily pushing aside her apprehension. "Thank you so much, Elliott."
"Only one condition," he said with a cheeky grin, attempting to lighten the mood. "I'd have to be there to supervise, make sure no one gets rowdy."
Claire let out a laugh, some of the tension dissipating. "You just want an excuse to attend the event, don't you?" she teased, appreciating his lighthearted humor.
"Maybe I do," Elliott admitted with a grin. "But I promise to be on my best behavior."
"Alright, you've got yourself a deal," Claire agreed, playfully shaking his hand. As they parted ways, her thoughts kept drifting back to the phone call she had overheard. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right, but for now, she had no choice but to trust in fate and hope that Elliott's intentions were as genuine as they seemed.
Claire stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the last few strands of her red hair that had been meticulously curled into ringlets earlier that day. The evening gown hung in a garment bag by the door, waiting to be donned at the event. She glanced at her laptop on the table, still bearing no response from Leon, but she shook off any lingering worry. Tonight was about the fundraising event and TerraSave, not unanswered emails.
"Alright, Tyrant," she said, bending down to ruffle the fur of her black cat who was lounging on the floor. "Hold down the fort while I'm gone, okay?" The feline blinked lazily as if to say, "Don't I always?"
Garment bag slung over her shoulder, Claire stepped out into the cooling evening, locking the door behind her with a sense of purpose. She was ready for whatever the night might throw at her, or so she believed.
The lodge loomed ahead, its grandiose facade glowing with soft light as Claire approached. Pushing open the heavy oak door, she entered a foyer that could have belonged to an aristocrat from a bygone era. The opulence was almost jarring; it seemed surreal after the gritty reality she was accustomed to.
As Claire stepped through the open doors of the lodge, she was struck by the opulence of the main foyer. The color scheme was rich and inviting, with deep reds and golds that seemed to envelop her in warmth. Oil paintings adorned the walls, depicting scenes of lush forests and grand chateaus that spoke of a world far removed from the gritty reality she knew. Hanging above them was an exquisite crystal chandelier, its countless facets capturing the light and throwing it back in a dazzling display.
"Stunning, isn't it?" Elliott Gregory's voice cut through her reverie, tinged with a hint of nervous energy. He stood in the adjoining hallway, his warm smile a beacon in the grand setting.
"It is," Claire admitted, her blue eyes reflecting the sparkle of the chandelier. "Didn't expect this level of... splendor."
"Neither did I," Elliott confessed, adjusting his tie with an awkward motion. "But it sets the stage, doesn't it? Listen, you can change in the room just down there, second door to your left."
"Thanks," Claire said, noting the subtle furrow in his brow. "Everything all right?"
"Trying to juggle supervising the caterers and greeting the guests," he replied, his gaze drifting toward the entrance as another group arrived. "You know how it goes."
With a nod, she headed toward the changing room, leaving Elliott to continue his duties. As she changed into her gown, Claire couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of excitement and apprehension. This night was crucial for TerraSave, and she was determined to make it a success, no matter what challenges awaited her.
Claire emerged from the changing room, her reflection in the mirror a testament to transformation. The red sequined dress clung to her form like molten glass, catching the light with every subtle movement. She ran her fingers through her curled ringlets, ensuring they framed her face just so—a visage of elegance that belied her true nature as a survivor.
The main foyer buzzed with low conversation and the clink of fine stemware. Claire navigated through clusters of guests, her eyes scanning the room until she locked gazes with Excella Gionne. The woman's presence dominated the space, a gravity all her own, as she entered flanked by her two bodyguards.
"Excella Gionne, I presume?" Claire said, extending her hand. "I'm Claire Redfield from TerraSave."
"Ah, Miss Redfield," Excella replied, her icy blue eyes narrowing slightly as she looked Claire up and down. "I'm well aware of who you are. You've made quite a name for yourself. I look forward to seeing if you live up to the hype."
Claire gritted her teeth, trying to remain professional despite Excella's snobby attitude. She turned her attention to the bodyguards, a tall, muscular man with unkempt red hair and a steely gaze, and a brunette woman who seemed more playful in comparison. "I don't foresee any trouble for your boss tonight. I trust you won't do anything unnecessary to scare the rest of the guests?"
The man silently nodded, while the brunette replied, "You don't need to worry about that." At Excella's command, they moved to stay close yet maintain a low profile.
The next several hours passed with little fanfare, guests mingling and occasionally partaking in food or wine. Claire couldn't help but notice that Excella seemed bored, her eyes frequently drifting to the exit. She wondered why the woman had even bothered to come – but then again, her generous donation would undoubtedly make a significant difference for TerraSave.
As the evening began to wind down, Claire spotted Elliott across the room and made her way over to him. "Hey," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "Thank you again for all your help tonight."
Elliott's face lit up with his warm smile. "Don't mention it, Claire. I enjoy spending time with you." His eyes twinkled with sincerity, making Claire feel at ease in his presence.
"Even though we barely saw each other during the event?" she teased, pretending to pout.
Elliott laughed, his infectious joy filling the space between them. "Well, it's better than not seeing you at all."
The evening's formality ebbed away as Claire retreated to the changing room, the sequins of her gown catching the last glimmers of light. She stood before the mirror, fingers combing through tresses that had been styled into obedience hours earlier. As she worked to free each curl, the door swung open with an unsteady push.
The door swung open, revealing Excella's playful brunette bodyguard from earlier. She stumbled into the room, clearly intoxicated. Claire couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight. It struck her as odd that the bodyguard would be drinking on the job, but she decided it wasn't her place to judge.
"Hey there, Miss Redfield," the woman slurred, leaning against the wall for support. "You sure know how to throw a party. Name's Jessica, in case I didn't share."
"Rough night?" Claire asked.
"Best kind," Jessica giggled, swaying slightly as she made her way over. But her laughter dissolved into a shriek as she tripped, grasping for the counter only to bring Claire's purse crashing down with her. Her hysterical laughter resumed, echoing through the small room while Claire looked on, bemused.
"Hey, are you okay?" Claire asked, genuine concern lacing her voice.
Jessica giggled again, slurring through her laughter, "I'm fine, just gotta find my partner." She clumsily pushed herself to her feet and staggered out of the room, leaving Claire to wonder if following her would be the right thing to do. Deciding that concern trumped any inclination to mind her own business, she trailed after Jessica.
Rounding a corner, she caught sight of Jessica locked in a hushed argument with her tall, muscular partner. She wasn't close enough to hear their words, but it was clear that Jessica would be reprimanded for her behavior. Claire decided it best not to interfere and headed back to the main foyer where she reunited with Elliott.
"Everything okay?" he asked, his warm brown eyes searching her face.
"Fine, just some... unexpected drama," Claire replied, trying to shake off the strange encounter. She glanced outside, noting that there were only five cars left in the lot. "Looks like most everyone's gone."
"Care for a glass of wine? Just one," Elliott suggested, holding up a finger to emphasize the moderation. "I've abstained all evening, and I'm quite aware of my threshold."
"Is that wise?" Claire arched an eyebrow, yet the thought of unwinding after the night's facade held appeal.
"Trust me, one small glass won't hurt."
"Alright, one it is," she conceded, following Elliott to a secluded staircase at the edge of the foyer. They settled onto the steps, the crystal chandelier above casting a soft glow over their impromptu retreat.
They spoke of inconsequentials, laughter punctuating their exchange as they found solace in the shared simplicity. Here, away from prying eyes and veiled intentions, Claire allowed herself to relax, the omnipresent tension in her muscles uncoiling just enough to savor the transient peace.
The soft glow of the foyer's chandelier cast a warm light on Claire and Elliott as they shared one last laugh, their conversation ebbing into a comfortable silence. Claire glanced at her watch, suddenly aware of how late it had become. "We should call it a night," she suggested, reluctant to end their time together but knowing they both had responsibilities to attend to.
Elliott nodded in agreement, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he added, "I did promise my sister, Katherine, that I'd come over early tomorrow to babysit Henry."
"Your nephew?" she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Elliott chuckled and shook his head. "No, actually, Henry's my sister's husband." Claire gave him a puzzled look, and he grinned, amused by her confusion. "Just kidding. He's my three-year-old nephew."
Relieved that Elliott was joking, Claire laughed with him. "You had me going there for a second." As they stood, Elliott pulled out his phone and showed her a picture of him with the adorable toddler. Claire couldn't help but smile at the image, feeling reassured by this glimpse into Elliott's personal life. It was clear that he genuinely cared for his family, and she felt grateful to have crossed paths with such a kind-hearted person.
Elliott escorted Claire outside, the crisp night air sending a shiver down her spine. Before parting ways, he insisted on checking if anything needed to be cleaned up inside and wished her a safe drive home. Grateful for his concern, Claire offered a small wave before climbing into her car.
Instead of starting the ignition, she spent a couple of minutes rummaging through her glove compartment, searching for a music CD she wanted to listen to on the drive home. Finally, she found it and set off down the dark, winding road, leaving the night's events behind her – or so she thought.
She hadn't driven far when she spotted another vehicle parked along the side of the desolate road. Compelled to investigate in case someone needed help, Claire pulled over and approached the car. Peering through the passenger window, she was surprised to see Jessica – still clearly intoxicated – slumped against the seat.
"Jessica?" Claire knocked on the window, her voice a mix of concern and confusion. "What are you doing here? Where's Excella?"
Jessica's giggle unexpectedly pierced the tense atmosphere. "On her way to the airport," Jessica slurred, a twisted grin on her face. "And I think I pissed off my partner." She glanced at the driver's seat and then back to Claire, her eyes unfocused. "I... forget where Raymond said he was going."
Claire gnawed at her lip, silently questioning why Jessica's partner would just leave her stranded like this. After a moment of indecision, she offered Jessica a ride. With some difficulty, Jessica stumbled out of the car and, though unsteady on her feet, refused any aid in walking over to Claire's vehicle.
Headlights suddenly bathed them in a warm glow. Elliott's car curved into view, slowing to a stop alongside them. He stepped out, concern etching his features into a frown. "Everything alright?" he called out.
" Two saviors for the price of one! How lucky am I?" Jessica cheered, her arms flung wide as if embracing the absurdity of the situation.
Claire filled Elliott in on the situation, assuring him she'd be alright when he expressed concern. He hesitated momentarily before nodding and moving back toward his car.
Sighing, Claire reached into her purse for her keys, only to realize her phone was missing. A wave of unease washed over her. Hadn't she left it in her purse earlier? She tried to recall where she last had it when Jessica asked playfully, "Lose something?"
Her voice had lost its drunken edge, now sounding perfectly sober. In that instant, Claire knew—Jessica must have taken her phone back in the changing room. Reacting on instinct, she blocked Jessica's attempt to grab her from behind, spinning around to face her attacker. The two women exchanged a flurry of blows, their movements precise and controlled despite the apparent spontaneity of their brawl.
Elliott, hearing the sounds of combat, turned back, his eyes wide with shock and fear as he took in the sight of Claire locked in a violent struggle with Jessica. His mouth opened, but no sound emerged, leaving him a silent witness to the unfolding drama.
Claire spotted him from the corner of her eye but tried to ignore him. She couldn't afford to lose focus now; she had to stay on her guard. Every muscle in her body tensed as she parried each of Jessica's blows, her mind racing to anticipate her opponent's next move.
Gravel crunched underfoot as they grappled, the struggle spilling light and shadow across their faces. Claire's thoughts narrowed to a single point: survive and protect, a mantra that had carried her through countless nightmares. Now, it was all that stood between her and the unknown threat Jessica posed.
Claire's heart pounded in her chest as she managed to trip up Jessica, seizing the opportunity to snatch the Browning pistol from the back waistband of Jessica's jeans. Taking a step back, she held Jessica at gunpoint with her own weapon, her hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. But instead of fear, a sinister smile crept across Jessica's face as she looked up at Claire.
Raymond must be close, Claire thought, the realization hitting her like a punch to the gut. Desperate to protect Elliott, she called out to him, "Elliott, you need to go! Now!"
But before he could respond, a shadow emerged from the roadside brush—a tall figure with a Glock trained on him. Raymond, Jessica's partner, stepped into the faint glow of the car headlights, his steely gaze unsettling in its calm.
"Thanks, Ray," Jessica purred, her eyes gleaming with malice as Raymond forced Claire to relinquish the Browning pistol back to her. Elliott's confusion was evident on his face, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation.
"If it's money you people want, you can have it. Just let us go," he pleaded, swallowing hard as the cold barrel of the Glock pressed against his temple.
Jessica smirked, twirling a lock of her brown hair between her fingers as she playfully mocked him. "Given that Ray and I were contracted to grab Miss Redfield, letting her go would defeat the purpose. Sorry to tell you that you've just become collateral damage, sweetie. Assuming that's what the boss determines." She punctuated her statement with a cruel smile, her eyes glinting with sinister intent.
Claire's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of the unfolding scene. How could she have been so blind? She cursed herself for not seeing through their charade sooner.
Jessica pulled out her phone and dialed a number. "Hey, it's me. We have your girl, but she's not alone. A guy friend of hers showed up, knows our faces and names. Orders?"
A tense silence hung in the air as Jessica listened intently, her expression giving nothing away. The seconds stretched on, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, Jessica spoke again. "Understood."
Hanging up, she turned her devilish smile on Elliott. For a moment, it seemed as though she would pull the trigger and end his life right there. But instead, she laughed. " Looks like it's your lucky day," she purred, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness. "The boss has decided you get to live for now."
Elliott's face paled, his chest tightening with both relief and fear. He glanced at Claire, seeking reassurance, but found none in her tense expression. She was focused on Jessica, her mind racing to find a way out of this nightmare.
"Raymond," Jessica commanded, her voice icy, "Make sure our friend here doesn't cause any more trouble."
Without a word, Raymond stepped closer to Elliott, his Glock still aimed at him. The sudden impact of Raymond's weapon against the side of his head sent Elliott crumpling to the ground, unconscious.
Claire's heart hammered against her ribs, her mind racing with escape plans that were as futile as they were frantic. The scent of danger was as tangible as the chilly night air that wrapped around them—a stark reminder of her own perilous situation.
"Your turn, Miss Redfield," Jessica said, turning her attention back to Claire. Before she could react, Jessica whipped out a small cloth soaked in chloroform, pressing it against Claire's mouth and nose.
Claire's instincts kicked into high gear, her fingers clawing at Jessica's hand in a desperate attempt to pull the cloth away from her face. But the chemicals quickly invaded her senses, and her vision blurred, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. She couldn't let herself succumb, not when there was still a chance to save Elliott and herself.
"Fight it, Claire," she thought, her inner voice urging her on. "You can't lose now. Not after everything you've been through."
But the world around her continued to fade, her strength draining away, until the darkness swallowed her whole. And with one last surge of defiance, Claire Redfield slipped into unconsciousness, leaving her fate in the hands of her captors.