A Touch of Red
By evolution-500
Genres: Horror/Friendship/Romance
Feedback: Always welcome
WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language, mature themes and disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft while RESIDENT EVIL is a property belonging to Capcom. I do not own any of these characters.
A HUGE shout out to EcoSeeker247 for suggesting the name "Project Odyssey" - thank you so much! I recommend checking out her stories - she's a kickass writer deserving of more readers.
Chapter Two: The Coming Storm
Once they finished checking out the gift shop, Claire and her friends exited the building, laughing and smiling as they talked.
"Man, that was quite a rush!" Claire said excitedly. "I can't believe how cool that was!"
"I know, right?" Rebecca agreed. "Did you see the way Cinder took on all those ice clones? That was crazy!" She then started making jabs and punching sound effects. "Bam! Bam! Wham! Bam!"
"I wonder how they managed to make the fire effects on him so realistic," Leon commented. "Do you think it's a hologram, or is it a guy in a fire retardant suit?"
Claire shrugged. "I have no idea. I think it could be an animatronOOF!"
Crashing head-first into another person, Claire unsteadily wobbled and nearly fell backward when a strong hand grabbed her by the arm.
"Oh! My sincere apologies! Are you alright?" A light, breezy voice asked worriedly.
Regaining her balance, Claire looked to the man in front of her, ready to give him a piece of her mind when she took in his appearance.
He was Asian, young from the looks of him, probably in his early twenties - about twenty-two, perhaps twenty-three - although she couldn't be entirely certain due to the fact that his lower facial features were concealed by a protective face plate that guarded the nose and cheeks.
Underneath was a long veil made of light blue cloth that draped past his chin, his slanted brown eyes framed by ornate golden teeth decorations that lined both the plate and the light blue head band that he wore, looking as if he were peering out from a tiger's mouth.
He stood about the same height as her, his form slim, though Claire could tell from his muscular arms that the man worked out.
Dressed in a light blue dhonka and shemdap with red piping on the edges of his inner robe, the young man appeared to be some sort of Buddhist monk, for draped around one arm, shoulder and part of the torso was a red zhen outer robe like Claire had seen in magazines and on TV.
Only his bare tattooed right arm, short parted brown hair, sandal-clad feet were exposed.
Looking at the former, Claire studied the design.
From his shoulder all the way down were swirling black intricate lines that seemed to mimic the markings of a tiger, some of it stylized into a face with some form of calligraphic writing that she couldn't identify.
Clutching a red wooden scabbard or walking stick in one hand with prayer beads wrapped around another, she could feel the man's eyes regarding her with gentleness and concern.
"Are you okay, miss?" he asked politely.
Claire nodded. "Y-Yeah, sorry about that!"
He gave her a wave. "It's fine. I was the one at fault. My apologies," the man bowed politely, folding his hands in front of his chest in a prayer-like pose.
"That's a really cool tattoo you have," Claire gestured.
"Hm." He nodded in appreciation, then looked around. "Out of curiosity, do any of you know where I can find the nearest Buddhist Temple around here? I'm afraid I'm a little lost."
Claire shook her head. "Sorry."
"I wish I could help out," Leon shrugged. "I'm not even sure if this city has one, to be honest." Seeing the downcast expression on the monk's face - at least, on the parts of his face that were visible - he then added, "But, uh, I'm not a hundred percent sure, so I could be wrong."
"You should try the information desk inside," Rebecca pointed to the arena. "They should have a map to help you out."
The man looked to the building, his eyes narrowing. Darkening.
"I see." Looking back to them, his eyes softened as he gave an apologetic nod. "I'm sorry to have troubled you all."
"Hey, it's no problem!" Claire smiled. "I'm sorry that I wasn't much help! Have a good night!"
The man smiled beneath his veil, then gave a slight courteous bow, pressing his palms together at chest-level. "You too, miss."
As Claire and others continued onto the parking lot, they watched as the strange... Buddhist monk went into the building.
Once they were further away, Leon then leaned into them.
"What do you make of that guy?" he asked quietly, his voice barely audible.
Rebecca shrugged. "He's a little odd, but I don't think he means any harm. It's not like he was asking for money or anything like that. I think he was just lost."
Claire looked back to the building.
"...Yeah." she said softly. Turning her attention back to her friends, a mischievous smile formed on her face. "I get front seat!"
"Nuh uh, I call dibs!" Rebecca grinned as she started racing her friend.
Leon merely shook his head with a laugh as the two tried outrunning one another.
Who'd have thought two grown beautiful women would be so immature?
He shrugged, then followed after them.
Claire stared out the window at the flashing neon signs, the streets crammed full. Overhead, hovercars hummed, their turbines and engines roaring. One such vehicle dipped low, causing Leon to swerve.
"JESUS!" He yelled. "IDIOT! WATCH WHAT YOU'RE DOING UP THERE!"
Claire watched as the driver overhead shouted something back to Leon out from his window, giving him the middle finger as he sped off.
"Prick," she muttered.
"I bet it's some stupid rich kid," Rebecca said with a shake of her head. "It's always the very wealthy but tiny-brained people that usually drive those things."
Leon scoffed. "I bet that's not the only thing that's small. I have a feeling that they're compensating for something."
Claire turned away from the window. "How come you don't drive one?"
Leon shrugged. "Apart from the fact that they require a pilot's license, something I don't have, they're insanely pricey and high maintenance. Kind of like, ahem, a certain someone that I know," he teased as he looked in Rebecca's direction.
"Hey!" Rebecca lightly elbowed him from the passenger's seat.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" He laughed.
Looking back to the front window, he stared ahead.
"But seriously, though? I wouldn't really know what to do with it. I mean, yeah it would be cool flying around up there, plus there might be one or two things I would want slightly differently." Reaching for Rebecca's hand, a small smile formed on his face. "That said, though, what I have here is more valuable than anything money could buy. As long as Rebecca is with me, nothing else matters."
Rebecca smiled as her eyes shined, sandwiching his hand between hers, running a thumb over the back of his.
"You always do know the sweetest things to say," she said in a soft voice, kissing his hand lightly.
Leon shrugged. "It's the truth."
With that, he took her hand and chastely kissed hers, lowering it back down.
Claire watched with envy and longing as the two held hands. Looking down to her own, she tried imagining the feeling, then looked back to the window, watching the passing buildings and suburban houses.
Seeming to notice how quiet it had gotten, Rebecca looked over at her.
"Is everything okay, Claire?" she asked.
Claire mustered up a smile. "Yeah. I'm alright, Rebecca," she assured. "Just a little tired, that's all."
By the time Claire got home, it was nine o'clock.
And not a moment too soon; she felt like falling asleep in the backseat.
Yawning, she stretched herself out as she felt the jeep jerk as it pulled up on the driveway.
"Ah, perfect!" Claire nodded in approval as she spotted her brother's Cavalier. "Looks like my brother's home. Thank you for the ride, guys!"
"No problem!" Leon waved.
"Maybe we could try again sometime?" Claire suggested as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
Rebecca nodded. "Sure! I'd love to!"
Leon smiled. "Yeah, I think it would be fun! I'll have to check my schedule, but I'd be totally down with that."
"Have a good night, guys!" Claire waved as she got out of the jeep.
"You too, Claire!"
Closing backdoor of the jeep, Claire stretched herself out with a groan, arching her back as she made her way up past the garage, going up a cement pathway to the front door.
It was a tiny yet serviceable little suburban home, about one story high with white walls and a brown roof. Barely remarkable.
As she reached for the door bell, Claire stopped as the door opened, revealing Jill and Chris as they were stepping out.
"Ah! Claire!" The latter said in surprise. "You're-you're early!"
"Nice to see you too, Chris," Claire greeted, turning her attention to the woman. "Jill."
The woman fidgeted. "I- sorry, we didn't expect to see you!"
Claire looked at her from top to bottom, taking her in.
A fit woman of twenty-four, Jill was Chris' partner, a half-French, half-Japanese knockout that stood at five-five and weighed one hundred and eleven pounds, with short dark brown hair done in a medium bob cut. Her clothes were in disarray and wrinkled, her hair a mess, her face flushed.
A knowing smile edged its way up Claire's face.
"Engaging in a little, ahem, extracurricular activities, I see?" She grinned, wagging her eyebrows suggestively.
She watched as both Chris and Jill blushed.
"No! Uh, it-it's n-not what it looks-" the latter stammered, then took in a deep breath. "I made a mess of my shirt and- and..."
Her voice trailed off.
"Uh huh," Claire continued to grin, forcing the older woman to look away in embarrassment as the auburn-haired girl looked over to her brother. "What's that on your neck, Chris?"
Claire's grin widened like a shark's as his eyes shot wide open, his face as a red as a tomato as he reached up and adjusted the collar of his shirt.
"NOTHING!" He said quickly. "Just a ketchup stain."
"...I think I'll just, uh, get going," Jill said as she looked bashfully away.
"Yeah," Chris nodded, standing awkwardly as he cleared his throat. "I'll, uh, I'll drive you-"
"No no," Jill waved. "I ordered a cab, remember?"
He nodded. "Oh yeah! Sorry, I forgot."
An awkward silence came over the trio as they stood by the doorway. Claire watched as Jill looked around and fidgeted, then paused. and gestured to a taxi as it drove in front of the driveway.
"Uh, that's my ride," Jill mumbled, gesturing to a yellow taxi as it drove up to the curb. "See ya."
Claire waved. "Take care, Jill!"
Turning around to face her brother, she folded her arms and gave him.
"So," she began, "that was why you decided to ditch me."
Chris winced. "It wasn't like that. We just-"
"UP BUP BUP!" Claire raised a hand, pushing through the door. "I don't want to hear about it! I can live without the details."
"Nothing happened!" Chris insisted.
She gave him a flat look as she took off her shoes.
"Chris, you are a terrible liar," she deadpanned, "...plus your fly is open."
She watched as her oaf of a brother clumsily reached down and zipped up his pants.
"So, uh, so how was the show?" He asked, closing the door behind him, turning the lock.
"It was great! It was everything I expected and more! The only downside was that the show had to be cut short."
"Really? How come?"
"Some kid snuck into the arena during the fight. A little girl." She then noticed the concern look, then quickly raised up her hands in assurance. "She's alright, but the show had to be cancelled."
"Ouch," Chris merely replied.
"On the plus side, though, I've got free tickets for the next show!" Claire said as she took out said-tickets from her pocket, giving them a wave.
Chris nodded approvingly. "Nice!"
"Maybe next time you and Jill can come along!" Claire suggested.
He shrugged. "Maybe. No promises, though." He then looked at her. "Did you have supper?"
"Nah, I had popcorn," Claire grinned in satisfaction as she patted her stomach. "Besides, I'm full."
Chris frowned. "I hope you don't get sick."
"I'll be fine, Chris!" Claire assured. "I'm a tough girl."
"Except when you get stomachaches, at which point you start losing that spunk and start whining like a baby," he teased.
"Hey, that was one time!" She insisted.
"Nuh uh."
Claire smacked her brother lightly.
"Ah, what's the use," she sighed. "I'm just going to take a shower and go to bed."
"Okay. If you're still hungry, though, there's some leftover spaghetti and meatballs in the fridge."
She smiled. "Nice. Maybe tomorrow. I was going to say have a good night, but, uh, given the way you look, lover boy, it seems you already had."
Claire laughed as Chris lightly swatted the back of her head.
"You cheeky rat," the latter grumbled. "So tell me, who fought this time?"
Lying on the bed in a pair of fresh pajamas, Claire stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Leon and Rebecca's words, the way the two held hands.
Looking to her own, she tried imagining the sensation.
"That said, though, what I have here is more valuable than anything money could buy. As long as Rebecca is with me, nothing else matters."
"If only some of us were as fortunate as you two," Claire whispered to herself sadly as she looked at her small room and ordinary clothes. Her mind drifted over to Baron Von Sabrewulf, to his castle. Scoffing, she shook her head tiredly. "Some people just have all the luck." She stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, leaning back into her pillow. "I wonder how the other half lives."
David Kellog frowned as he glanced around, watching the guests of the cocktail party in the Ultratech headquarters.
Where the hell had Konrad gone?
A partially bald, eagle-faced man dressed in a nice navy suit, David was Ultratech's Chief Operating Officer, having worked with the company and its CEO, Baron Von Sabrewulf, since its very foundation.
If only he knew where the hell the damned fellow was.
He knew the man was around here somewhere, he just needed to find him.
David knew Konrad wasn't particularly fond of parties, even business-related ones, but still, the man was frustratingly elusive and hard to get a hold of.
The main hall was filled to the brim with people, with caterers dressed in white scurrying around with trays of food and martini glasses in various different directions, the building echoing with laughter and numerous voices.
Wealthy men, famous celebrities and others stood and chatted with one another, dressed in fancy tuxedoes, suits, and gowns, the women wearing the latest and most expensive dresses from Milan.
'Looks like a full house,' David thought to himself as he eyed each and every person carefully, his eyes searching for either the Baron or the distinctive form of his bodyguard Dieter.
He internally scoffed.
Bodyguard indeed!
He had met the man ages ago, and the two of them had an instant dislike for one another.
Dieter seemed more of a gangster than anything else.
Even the way he had dressed, with his grey suit with matching overcoat and broad brimmed fedora, black sunglasses, shirt, tie and shoes made him look as if he had stepped out of an old noir film.
Supposedly both Dieter and Konrad had saved each other from some thugs that were trying to rob the two of them years ago in Las Vegas, but part of him wouldn't be surprised if the former had orchestrated it all in order to ingratiate himself with the Baron.
Despite his misgivings, though, he had to admit the man was a faithful companion to the Baron.
He had always been by the Baron's side no matter what, especially after the unfortunate incident in Germany.
David shook his head pityingly.
First this debilitating disease, and then Konrad's butler Jurgen ended up committing suicide.
Poor man.
A rough masculine laugh stirred David from his thoughts, drawing his attention with a frown.
"Oh God," David muttered as he saw the unmistakable figure of Sergei Vladimir.
A robust man of six-seven, with broad shoulders and a powerful frame, his hair was bushy and grey, with long bangs at the front that coiled down to one side of his rough square face. Standing erect, he proudly wore a long, thick, bluish grey military-styled coat that had a red collar and cuffs with a black belt tied around the waist, his feet clad in heavy black boots.
A former Spetsnaz Colonel, Sergei was a high ranking executive that had joined with Umbrella following the collapse of the Soviet Union, ages before its subsequent acquisition by Ultratech, although Sergei had no trouble adapting to this new environment. A loud and boisterous man, David had little patience for the fellow, even if he was ruthlessly efficient.
He was even more disgusted by Sergei's bodyguards, two hulking giants of men that had dark grey skin with wraparound visors and thick stark white trench coats that made the two of them look as if they had stepped out from a science fiction film.
David repressed a shudder at the sight of "Ivan" and his twin.
"Excuse me?"
Hearing the feminine voice speak directly behind him, David turned around and found himself face to face with the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen - a stunning Asian looker with black hair done in a medium bob cut and a slender though sexy hour glass body wearing a slinky, red sleeveless cocktail dress, looking like the very definition of sex itself, causing him to straighten up considerably.
"Well hello!" David smiled as he eyed her up and down. "And just who might you be?"
The woman smiled seductively. "My name is Ada. Ada Wong," she introduced. "I'm the new secretary."
"Enchanté," David said as he took her hand and laid a kiss on her knuckles. "I am David Kellog, Chief Operating Officer. I didn't realize we had a new secretary. Just started, I take it?"
"That's right," she nodded.
"Well, in that case, where are my manners? On behalf of Ultratech, welcome to our little family," he said, raising a glass to her.
Ada smiled pleasantly. "Thank you, Mr. Kellog, sir."
David sipped from his drink, giving her a wave. "So tell me, Ms. Wong," he began, "how are you settling in? No problems, I hope?"
She shook her head. "No no! Things are good so far. It's my first day, actually."
"Ah," David nodded. "Well, Ms. Wong, you've come to the right place. Hopefully you'll have a good time here."
"Thank you!" Ada then looked around. "Out of curiosity, is Baron Von Sabrewulf here? I was hoping to meet him and get his autograph!"
David's smile faltered. "Yes, well, I'm afraid I have no idea where he is at the moment," he said apologetically. "He is a very difficult man to pin down."
"Aw, that's a shame," she pouted.
"If I see Konrad, I'll be sure to let him know about your interest."
Her smile returned. "That would be much appreciated!" She then checked her watch, her smile dropping. "Oh my! I'm afraid I'll have to cut this party short. I have an early morning awaiting me and a lot of files to get through for tonight." She then gave a polite nod and another of her smiles. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Kellong. Have a good night!"
He smiled back. "A pleasure meeting you too, Ms. Wong. May you have a good evening."
As the woman in red disappeared into the crowd, David gave a wistful sigh.
God that woman was beautiful!
'I hope I see her again,' came the thought.
Dropping the smile, David looked back to the crowd.
Now where had the Baron gone this time?
Konrad sat alone at the rooftop balcony, staring over the edge down to the pavement below.
It was so tempting to climb up and take that extra step.
Just one step-
"Enjoying the view, Baron?"
Konrad frowned, slinking into his wheelchair as his bodyguard Dieter approached.
"How are you enjoying the party?" The latter asked despite seeming to know the answer.
Konrad stared out at the night sky, at the spot-lit buildings and flashing neon-lit streets advertising Sony, Ultratech and the newest soft drinks, Coca Cola signs coloring parts of the surrounding buildings, billboards and roads in red. Looking up, Konrad found himself looking at a jumbotron on the roof of a distant skyrise as flashed with the weather and news reports of traffic conditions along with the newest products by Rareware as they advertised the newest Killer Instinct game for the Ultra-64.
Clenching his gloved hands into a fist, the Baron narrowed his eyes at the logo, feelings of disgust and revulsion crawling over him.
As if sensing his discomfort, Dieter cleared his throat.
"Why don't we, uh, call it a night, eh, Baron? Would you like me to take you home?" the bodyguard asked.
Konrad said nothing for a long time as the metallic logo leapt out from the screen punctuated by Chris Sutherland's iconic cries.
"...Ja," he said finally. "Take me home, Dieter. I think I've had enough for this evening."
Leaning back into his wheelchair, he sat still as Dieter guided him back inside, reaching for his cellphone.
As the door closed, he heard that damned announcer again as he uttered that loathsome dreaded word, the word that taunted and haunted Konrad every waking moment. The word that made his life a living hell.
"KILLER INSTINCT."
Jack Krauser waited impatiently at the bar of the strip club, his dark, deep set grey eyes searching around.
"Where the hell's my contact?" he muttered.
His visage marked by four distinctive and hideous-looking facial scars, with two cuts that curved all the way from his left eye through his upper and lower lip all the way down to his chin while the other two marked the other side of his mouth, Krauser was a heavy-set man of twenty-eight, with short blonde hair and a buff, muscular form. His black shirt clung so tightly around his chest and broad shoulders that the fabric practically strained against his six pack, while his combat fatigued pants hung comfortably on his hips, earning some attention from the ladies.
Raising his eyes to the girls onstage, he watched in boredom, the room pulsating with neon to the beat of the song that it played. A smug grin formed on his scarred face as leered at the pretty blonde cocktail waitress in skimpy clothing as she passed by, eying her rear.
"Feeling a little lonely, are we?" a light feminine voice teased, causing his grin to drop as he turned to face the woman to his right, giving her an appraising look from top to bottom.
The woman was pretty, beautiful even, with an hourglass body that was concealed in a long, sexy red cocktail dress, her medium length black hair done in a bob cut that complimented her slightly pale complexion and framed her cat-like face, a perfectly sculpted Asian porcelain mask of pure elegance with a medium length nose, red luscious lips and thin delicate eyebrows.
Her seductive brown eyes, though light with humor, had a dark quality that put Krauser on edge, reminding him of a big cat like a panther or jaguar.
"Just waiting and checking out the goods," Krauser shrugged before giving her a meaningful look. "You're her, aren't you?"
The woman said nothing, her face giving nothing away as she seemingly sized him up.
"I'm guessing you must be Wesker's boy toy," she said lightly.
Krauser gave a low growl and a glare.
"He told me you'd be comin'. The name's Krauser." A smirk edged its way up one side. "I gotta say, it's a real honor meetin' ya." Getting up from the barstool, Krauser grabbed his bottle of beer and took a swig. Pulling it away, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "He's waiting for you in the back. Come on."
Stepping past the other patrons as they all hollered at the girls onstage, he gave a curious look over to the enigmatic woman that he's heard so much about.
As they continued toward the door at the back, a drunken man with a vest and a green spiked hair stumbled toward her.
"Hey baby," he slurred, "how mush do you cost?"
Krauser frowned. "She's not a dancer or hooker, moron."
"Oy, piss off! I'm speakin' with the lady!" Turning back to her, the spike-haired man grinned lasciviously as he fondled his crotch. "I've got something for you right here. Heh heh heh."
The woman gave a pleasant smile, then, with a swiftness that startled Krauser, she grabbed the man by the family jewels, causing him to let out a squeak.
She stared at the man, not in anger, not in disgust, but with the cold narrow eyes of a predator, like a cat that was playing with its food, a slight smile on her face.
"What's the matter, baby?" She said simply. "Wasn't this what you wanted?"
Her grip tightened, causing Krauser himself to wince as the man cried out.
"OWWW! Bitch you're crushing my-" He gave a slight howl as one of her delicate brows arched curiously and as she leaned forward.
"I'm sorry, but was that an insult?" The woman asked, her smile and tone never faltering.
The man looked straight into her eyes, and in that moment he immediately sobered up, looking at the woman with an expression of both pain and fear.
"N-no, ma'am. I-I'm sorry ta have bothered you. It won't ever happen again."
The woman's smile widened considerably, giving her a frighteningly feral quality that made even a toughened Army veteran like Krauser have goosebumps.
"Good," she said.
Then, with a slight shove with one hand, an action that seemed nothing more than a mere flick of the wrist, she flung the man several feet back, causing Krauser to stare in shock as the thug crashed into a distant table, toppling it over.
The man was a pretty big guy, at least two hundred and fifty pounds and six-five, but despite such a delicate action, he was thrown as if he were nothing.
As the man sputtered and scrambled back onto his feet, he eyed the woman, who merely smiled at him.
"Word of advice? Mind your manners." With that, her eyes flickered bright yellow, startling Krauser.
What the hell?
When she turned back to face Krauser her again, the light was gone.
"Lead the way," she gestured to the heavy steel door at the back.
Krauser stared at her for a moment, then resumed on.
'Must be a trick of the light,' he thought.
Approaching the rear door, he knocked a couple times, then watched as a tiny slot opened.
"She's here," Krauser said simply.
Watching as the tiny porthole shut closed, he heard a click and waited as the door itself opened.
As he was about to step forward, a hand on his chest suddenly made him pause.
"Ladies first," the woman in red smiled.
He scoffed. "Right. Of course. Where are my manners?"
Gesturing to the door, he waited as she slipped past, her movement delicate and measured, a predator's grace.
Giving her round rear an appraising glance, Krauser smirked slightly, but then quickly looked back up as he recalled the rumors.
While Krauser was no pushover himself, he knew better than to underestimate her. Not when she has such a notorious reputation.
Looking back to the rest of the strip club, he gave one last glance, then slipped through, shutting the door behind him.
Stepping inside, she paused as she heard the distinctive click of a firearm.
"Up against the wall, no sudden movements," Krauser said behind her.
The woman in red quietly complied and waited patiently as he patted her down, checking for any concealed weaponry and/or bugs on her person.
Krauser seemed to be taking his time, but she gave no mind to it. She remained patient, though part of her remained ready to strike at a moment's notice should the situation call for it.
Tilting her head ever so slightly to the side, she a raised brow.
"You sure are taking your time," the woman in red commented absentmindedly.
Krauser grunted. "Nothin' personal, lady - just a precaution." He then nodded, pulling his hands away. "She's all clear."
"Good," a deep baritone voice said lowly, drawing the woman's attention.
Turning to the source, she gave the room a quick scan as she entered. It was a spacious, although dimly lit and sparsely filled room, with a table at the center, a couple chairs and an emergency backdoor, which was right where her contact was conveniently positioned should this meeting go south.
Although the man was seated in the shadows, with a lot of his features concealed, she could make out his features perfectly, her eyes long used to seeing in the dark. The man was handsome, dressed entirely in black, with a dark blazer, turtleneck, dress pants, shoes, gloves and a pair of reflective sunglasses covering his eyes, his clothing contrasted by his pale skin and slicked back platinum blonde hair. From what she could tell, he was cleanshaven with fine and sharply cut facial features, with a long sharp though straight nose and a strong jaw.
The woman in red felt the sunglasses scrutinize her like security cameras, feeling a little unnerved. Then, after a minute passed, the man gestured to the chair in front of him.
"Please, sit."
Giving a gracious nod, she complied, crossing one leg over the other.
"You must be Wesker, I assume," the woman said.
Wesker gave a grunt of acknowledgement. "Your reputation precedes you," he nodded thoughtfully.
The woman gave a slight though confident smirk. "It usually does," she said smugly as she leaned forward. "So, what is the Captain of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team doing in a place like this?"
The sunglasses reflected her features as Wesker pushed them up with one hand to the bridge of his nose.
"This place has been under surveillance for sometime by the Raccoon City Police's Drug Squad. Can't go into details, but rest assured, my being here wasn't by choice," he explained. "But enough about that. Have you infiltrated the company?"
She nodded. "I have."
"Does anyone suspect anything?"
"No. As far as they're concerned, Ada Wong is nothing more than a mere secretary."
Wesker nodded. "Good." He then leaned forward. "Have you been able to locate the files?"
The woman in red frowned. "No. There's nothing."
Wesker looked at her curiously. "Nothing? Not even for the T-Virus? The Hunter Program? The Tyrant?"
She shook her head again. "I couldn't find any trace of those anywhere."
He was deathly still for a moment, then raised his eyes. "What of Project Fulgore?"
The woman in red felt her frown deepen. "Couldn't find any files at this branch."
"Hmm." Wesker leaned back into his seat, his fingers pressed together. "Were you able to find anything about the Odyssey energy generator project? Chairman Sabrewulf has made several mentions of a working prototype during the meetings."
"Again, came up empty," the woman in red shook her head.
She watched the man in black as he pondered her words.
For a while now Wesker had been using her services to try to find incriminating evidence to use against the Baron, but the Baron himself was a frustratingly difficult person to get access to, let alone find dirt on.
Not only had entire sections of Umbrella's Research Divisions been reorganized, but many had been shut down altogether despite years of development, including those relating to T-Virus, which Wesker himself had a hand in developing, having been one of Umbrella's top researchers before eventually serving with the US Army and subsequently with S.T.A.R.S.
She couldn't tell if Wesker was the vindictive type, but she suspected that deep down he was given all of this effort to screw over his employer.
Wesker clicked his tongue.
"I thought that might be the case," he said thoughtfully.
The woman raised a brow, "You knew?"
He gave a slight shrug. "I had suspected as much, but part of me been hoping to be proven wrong," Wesker clarified, folding his arms together as he leaned back into his seat. "If I were to hazard a guess, all of that information is at the Baron's estate under heavy lock and key along with the various specimens, viral samples and so on."
She frowned. "If that's the case, then getting in will be extremely difficult."
"I know a guy who'd be able to get in," Krauser spoke up. "Old Special Forces buddy of mine that I worked with plenty of times over the years. He'd be able to make it inside no sweat."
Wesker frowned. "Considering we haven't seen or heard from him in a while, and his last reported sighting was in Germany, I think it's fair to say that Ferris has been compromised."
The woman in red hesitated.
"Ferris?" she repeated. "As in Ben Ferris?"
Krauser raised a brow. "You know each other?"
"We've met. Bit of an ego, but he's good," she nodded, a slight, soft fond smile on her face as she reminisced her encounters before narrowing her eyes, reverting back to the stone-cold professional that she was. "Have you tried contacting him?"
Krauser shrugged. "Tried, but he's all but disappeared."
"Then we'll have to make do with what we have," Wesker asserted as he looked expectantly at the woman. "Do you think you'll be able to get in?"
The woman lifted her eyes to the ceiling, quiet for a long while.
"...Infiltration will be next to impossible due to the amount of security that place has," she said at last.
"And what does that mean, exactly?"
A confident smirk formed on the woman's face. "Fortunately, I like challenges."
Wesker met hers with his, letting out a low chuckle.
"As to be expected from you," he nodded in approval.
"With any luck this op will go smoothly unlike the Bangkok incident," Krauser commented wryly.
The woman rolled her eyes, groaning, "Oh God, not that again!"
Krauser chuckled. "So it's true? You killed ten guys by flashing them?"
The woman shook her head wearily. "In my defense, they were security guards trying to stop me...and they were geriatrics," she replied, pinching the bridge of her nose with a wince.
She watched as Krauser tossed his head back and laughed heartily.
"At least they died happy!" He said with a grin.
"Focus, children," Wesker said sternly. "We still have a problem. How do you intend to get inside?"
The woman gave a half smirk.
"By using the front door," she said simply.
Wesker scowled. "Is this a joke?"
"Not at all," she replied. "According to a source, there's a new KI tournament coming up that will be held at the Baron's mansion. I get in, retrieve the files, samples, whatever incriminating evidence I can get my hands on, then get out. Simple job."
"You make it sound easy," he said doubtfully. "It's brazen, even for you. Potentially foolhardy should you get caught." He tilted his head to the side. "However, given the fact that you have been able to accomplish seemingly impossible feats in the past when all odds had been against you...I don't see any reason why this should be any different for the Black Orchid."
Orchid smiled. "Glad to have the vote of confidence."
"Just don't this mess up," Wesker replied. "After all, it is not just your reputation that is on the line, and I don't need to remind you of the consequences."
Krauser folded his arms together, "You want me to go with her?"
"Aw, somebody cares!" Orchid cooed.
The big man shrugged. "Just want to see you in action."
"She can manage on her own," Wesker gave a dismissive wave. "You will remain here with me and provide her with tech support."
"You won't be disappointed," she assured.
He regarded her for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "Good. I'll be in touch with details regarding the shooting schedule as well as whatever else I can find pertaining to security. Good luck."
Giving him a nod, the woman in red rose from her seat, quietly and gracefully exiting through the way she came like a ghost.
Konrad sat alone in his den, seated by the sandstone hearth as it burned with a glass of wine in hand, staring at the ochre stone floor.
Two unlit chandeliers hung uselessly overhead, creaking as the orangish hue painted everything dimly around him, the ochre color of the floor extending upward to a pair of marble Roman Tuscan columns with smooth shafts and the burning hearth between them, their capitals connecting up to the castle's Gothic rib-like arches.
The arches themselves rested against smooth concrete white walls that were disfigured and cracked from age at the top and bottom corners, resembling the decaying hide of an animal.
Two feet over the mantel hung a brown clock with two pairs of ornamental bat wings protruding from the top and bottom corners, the clock ticking and winding down. To his left on a nearby wall hung a shield with a pair of crossed sabers, while at the opposite end of the room was a desk and self-portrait of Rembrandt.
The sounds of the wind, the clock's ticking, the crackling of the fireplace, the squeaky hinges of the chandeliers mixed together in a cacophony of noise as shutters knocked against their frames.
Konrad was still as he heard the door open behind him.
"Everything okay, Baron?" He heard Dieter's voice.
Leaning back in his wheelchair, the Baron remained quiet as he took a sip, not paying any heed to his bodyguard as he stepped inside and walked toward him.
"I've gotta say, Baron, that had been a hell of show tonight!" Dieter said with enthusiasm. "You've really made that kid a very happy camper."
Konrad grunted.
"Good for her," he said bitterly.
He felt Dieter's eyes on him, but Konrad remained focused on the kindle.
"From what I hear on social media, more and more people are calling you a sweetheart!" Dieter continued. "Some of them are even petitioning to have more photo ops with you and the rest of the "gang"."
Konrad growled.
"That will never happen," he said determinedly, tightening his gloved hands into fists.
The bodyguard merely shrugged. "Just thought I'd let you know," he replied. "Don't shoot the messenger." He tilted his head slightly, "Everything okay, Baron?"
The Baron remained still by the fire, then, taking a swig from his glass, he shook his head with a sigh.
"Nein," he said in a low, soft voice, eying the glass in his gloved hand. "I don't know..." He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. "I don't know what to do, Dieter. I used to look forward to watching and being part of the tournament. But the tournament...it's transforming before my eyes into something...warped. Depraved. Debased. Ever since that...fucking skeleton.….so many of our friends are now gone. Roger, Michael, Lawrence...Jurgen..."
Konrad's mouth clenched.
"And I have to deal with Umbrella's shit as well." Tossing the glass into the fire, he heard it shatter, the flame violently wavering.
Dieter shook his head, "Yeah, I still can't believe the stuff those guys have been working on. Fucking Spencer."
The Baron snorted. "Fucking Spencer indeed," he repeated with a nod. "When I acquired Umbrella after his death, I never realized just how corrupt that miserable old fart was. I thought I was buying out a pharmaceutical company, but Umbrella? It's a fucking snake pit."
He shuddered in his wheelchair.
"I hate them," he admitted. "I hate every single person within Umbrella. That blowhard Sergei, the Birkins…."
"Wesker?"
He stiffened in his seat. "Wesker is an even bigger snake, one with ambition. I wouldn't trust that little shit as far as I can throw him. He does have his uses, however."
He was still as he felt a comforting pat on the shoulder.
"We'll find a way through this, Baron," Dieter assured. "Your condition, Umbrella, everything. We just have to stay strong as long as possible and just brave through this like a hurricane."
Konrad scoffed. "'Hurricane' is right, Dieter," he commented. "There's definitely a storm coming. Only...I don't know if there's a light at the end of this."
The bodyguard tightened his grip on the Baron's shoulder. "We'll find a way. Eventually."
Konrad stared despondently at the fire as it wavered.
"...I would like to be alone, Dieter." He then caught himself, "Ah, right after you get me another drink."
Dieter nodded. "Yes sir."
As the bodyguard searched around for another bottle and glass, Konrad stared sadly up at the ceiling.
"I wish you were still here with me, Jurgen," he murmured softly. "I could use your guidance right now."
Author's Note: And that concludes this chapter! So yes, Ada is Orchid in this universe. For those unfamiliar with KI, Orchid had a finisher in the original KI where she flashed her opponents, causing them to have heart attacks. Just thought I toss that bit of trivia so you understand the reference lol. KI fans might spot other certain Easter eggs here and there. Hope you're enjoying the story so far! Stay safe, everyone!
