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.
Chapter Four: Gathering
Claire tapped her foot as she nervously waited in the lineup at the Ultratech Registration Desk. Three rows of people waited to see someone at the counter, with Claire and her friends standing in wait in the one in the middle.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rebecca asked quietly beside her.
"I have to, Rebecca! I don't know what else to do!" Claire replied quietly back, then looked around at the waiting area they were in. "...Man there's a lot of people here."
"No kidding," Leon commented as they eyed the other people around.
There were dozens of people in the lineup and in the waiting area, a lot of them bizarrely dressed. One woman was so scantily clad that Claire and her friends felt mortified from just looking at her. Waiting nearby on guard with one or two Theseus androids on hand in black uniforms with dark helmets and thick kevlar vests were security guards, their features hidden behind black visors that made them look as inhuman as the machines they worked with.
Hearing a grunt, Claire and the others turned around and gave space to a pair of struggling guards as they forcefully escorted a man with a pony tail and a pink karate gi out of the building.
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!" The man in the pink gi shouted as he was dragged away, struggling in their grips.
"Yeah, we do, unfortunately," the guard drawled with a flat, tired voice. "We've been given explicit orders to kick you off the premises should we see you again."
Claire and company watched as the man was pushed out of the door.
"This is your last warning - stay the hell away from here! The next time you show up, we will call the police!" The guard growled, pointing his finger at the man. "Now fuck off, Hibiki!"
Claire watched as "Hibiki" kicked the ground in a fit of anger and stormed off, then watched as the two guards tiredly shook their heads.
"What an asshole," one of them commented.
"I know, right? Guy just won't take no for an answer," the other replied.
"Isn't he in porn or something?"
"I don't know, man. All I know is that he's some F-list washup from some old show called 'Street Fucker' or something. Who knows."
As they wandered away, Claire heard a voice call out from the desk ahead of them, "Next!"
Claire stepped forward, handing her registration form and the various other documents to a middle-aged woman with glasses behind the counter.
"Okay, looks good," the latter said as she inspected the paperwork before taking out a slip of paper. "I'm going to need you to sign a waiver, dearie."
Claire hesitated.
"A waiver?" she repeated.
"Yes, a waiver of liability," the woman nodded.
Claire carefully read the terms, then looked up.
"Shouldn't I have a lawyer with me?" she asked.
"No, no," the woman waved. "It's pretty standard stuff, not very complicated. It's just to show that we haven't coerced you into fighting and that whatever injuries you may sustain through the course of the tournament we're not responsible for."
Claire hesitated.
"Injuries...?" she said softly.
"Of course, dearie," the woman said as she pushed up her glasses to the bridge of her nose, speaking if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This is a fighting tournament, after all. Getting hurt is a big part of what it is all about."
Looking over at Rebecca and Leon, the three of them exchanged nervous glances.
Swallowing, Claire looked back to the woman behind the desk. "H-has anyone...ever...died?"
The woman gave a reassuring smile.
"Dear me, no! Well, not in the tournament itself. You don't have to worry, dearie," she said as she reached up and patted Claire's hand.
The latter shifted uncomfortably.
"I can see you're having second thoughts about this, dearie," the woman said kindly. "Why don't you a take a moment to talk this over with your friends, hm? You look like a lovely girl, and I would hate to see you getting hurt. I'll just leave this at the side for you, okay?"
"Thank you, miss," Claire smiled.
The woman smiled back at her and nodded. As she moved away from the desk, Claire looked over to her friends.
"Well, what do you guys think?" she asked.
Rebecca bit her lip.
"Honestly...I don't think you should do it," the younger girl admitted. Looking away from Claire's eyes, she shifted uncomfortably. "It's- it's not that I don't have faith in you, Claire. It's just..." She lowered her eyes to the floor. "...I don't like the idea of you getting hurt."
Claire's eyes softened.
"Oh Rebecca..." she hugged her friend. "It's okay."
Leon stepped forward. "You don't have to do this, Claire. If you want, I can lend you some money-"
"No," Claire cut sharply, shaking her head vigorously. "I am not a moocher. I am not going to take money from my friends."
"It won't be any trouble at all-"
"It is for me." Claire exhaled. "Look, um, I really appreciate the offer, Leon, but...I need to do this. Chris has fought tooth and claw for me - it's time I did the same for him."
Leon and Rebecca gave a long stare.
"...Are you sure about this?"
Claire remained quiet for a moment, then gave a single nod in response.
"There's no guarantee that you'll win," Leon said. "Hell, there's no guarantee that you'll even be accepted. You'll still need to do the interview-"
"I know, Leon," Claire closed her eyes, her voice stern, "but what choice do I have?"
"There are other ways to earn money!" Rebecca protested.
Claire shook her head. "I'm sorry, guys...but I need to do this. If I end up getting rejected, though...I'll keep looking for other better-paying jobs." She muttered the last part, her voice barely audible.
She felt Rebecca take hold of her hand.
"No matter what happens, Claire," she spoke, "we'll always be there for you. You do know that, right?"
Claire gave Rebecca's hand a squeeze. "I know." She then gave a small sad smile. "Thank you, Rebecca."
The two of them remained there for a moment until Claire let go of her friend's hand, the former brushing her hand against her eye.
"Umm...wish me luck, okay?"
She watched as both Leon and Rebecca smiled back at her and nodded.
"Go get 'em!" The latter winked.
Letting out a sigh, Claire went back to the front desk as the woman behind it finished with another person.
"Have you decided, dearie?" the woman kindly asked.
Claire smiled, nodding. "Yeah. I want to do it."
"Are you sure? There's no turning back from this," the woman warned.
Claire took in a deep breath, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."
The woman smiled, then nodded back.
"Alright, dearie. I hope you know what you're doing. I'll need you to sign the waiver, please."
As Claire took hold of the form and lifted the pen, her hand froze, the pen's tip just barely an inch from the paper.
'Am I really going to be doing this?' she wondered.
The realization that Claire could get hurt suddenly made the pen in her fingers feel even heavier, as if she were holding lead, her palms clammy. Even though Claire herself was still, she could feel the muscles in her arms and hands trembling, and the fact that she wasn't shaking visibly despite her certainty that she was doing so was in itself a miracle.
Looking up from the page, the woman behind the counter gave her an expectant look. "...Well?"
'There's no turning back from this,' the woman's voice repeated in her head.
Claire frowned. No, there wasn't. Not now.
Exhaling, Claire narrowed her eyes with purpose, then willed pen to paper, and with that, signed her signature on the dotted line.
Once she finished, she shakily handed the pen back as the woman smiled at her.
"Okay, dearie. That should be about it."
Claire nervously exhaled. "So what now?" she asked.
The woman then handed her a slip of paper.
"This is your call number," she said. "As a potential candidate you'll need to be interviewed." The woman stopped as she noticed Claire paling. "Oh don't worry, dearie! It's just a formality. We usually interview candidates in order to make sure that participants are clear-headed and intelligent enough to understand what they are getting themselves into." She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. "Occasionally we would get the odd kook or drunkard come in after having one or two many drinks. The stories I could tell."
"Is that why you have all these security guards and androids around?"
"Indeed," the woman nodded, "although those are mainly for the more difficult candidates, usually the ones who had been rejected but were too stubborn to leave." She then gestured to the waiting area at the side. "Just take a seat over there until your number has been called, dearie."
"Okay. Thank you!" Claire waved as she turned around and went back to her friends.
"So what now?" Leon asked as she approached.
Claire sighed. "Well, now I have to sit and wait for the interview." She then looked at her friends with concern. "I really appreciate you both coming down with me, but I don't really know how long this thing is going to be, and I imagine you guys have other things you need to do-"
"Hey, it's okay!" Rebecca said with a smile. "Neither of us have anything to do, so it's fine! We're glad to be here."
"Yeah," Leon nodded. "We'll always be there for you, Claire, no matter what happens."
Claire smiled back, a warmth filling her heart. "Thanks a lot, guys."
Rebecca winked.
As the three of them moved to the waiting area and sat down, Claire found herself thanking God for giving her such wonderful friends.
"Next."
Claire yawned as she tiredly looked up at her call number, then looked up at the one on the call display.
042. Hers was 057 - not even close.
"It sure is taking a while," Claire commented as she continued playing tic-tac-toe on a slip of paper with Rebecca, marking the second row in the middle with an X.
"Yeah," the latter nodded as she looked around at the other fighters, then paused, shaking Claire's arm as she pointed over to the entrance as she said in a hushed voice, "Claire, look over there!"
Claire blinked. "Rebecca what is-"
"Look!" Rebecca hissed.
Rearing her head back in confusion, Claire turned to the entrance, then stopped. Seated close to the door with his eyes closed was the man from the stadium, the Buddhist monk that bumped into her.
"Hey, it's that guy from the stadium!" she said in surprise.
"What is he doing here?" Leon wondered.
"You don't think he's here for the tournament as well, do you?" Rebecca asked uncertainly.
"A Buddhist monk? I doubt that," he replied.
"I'll just ask," Claire volunteered as she got up from her seat and approached. The man was quiet and still, his hands clasped together around his walking stick- if that was what it was - looking as if he were asleep.
She cleared her voice. "Excuse me? Mister?"
"Hm?" The man opened his eyes, then blinked in surprise. "Oh, hello!"
"Hi," Claire smiled. "I don't know if you remember me, but-"
"I do," he nodded, his kind eyes regarding her. "I had accidentally bumped into you sometime ago."
"Yeah," she laughed lightly. "I couldn't help noticing you here. Are you waiting for someone?"
"Not at all. I'm just waiting for my number to be called," he replied.
She hesitated.
"You're-You're participating in the tournament?"
"Indeed I am. At least, I hope so."
Claire blinked several times.
"Oh," she said simply, scratching her head as she gave him a curious look. "Um, no offense, but...um...isn't this kind of thing frowned upon by other Buddhist monks?"
He shifted uncomfortably.
"...It is, especially by my denomination," he said slowly and deliberately with worry, "but circumstances necessitate my coming. I talked with the Abbot of my Order and he was fine with my participating."
Claire searched his eyes, curiosity getting the better of her. He didn't seem to be lying, but by the same token, the man seemed guarded.
Giving a pleasant smile, Claire gave a polite nod.
"I'm sorry to pry," she apologized. "I was just a little curious, that's all."
The man smiled beneath his blue veil.
"It is no problem at all," he said, giving a slight nod.
Tucking a tendril behind her ear, Claire held out her hand. "I'm Claire. Claire Redfield."
The monk looked down at her hand, his eyes narrowing in disapproval.
Confused by his reaction, it suddenly occurred to Claire that she must have offended him somehow.
Pulling her hand away, she gave a nervous smile. "Uhh, I'm sorry, I don't-" She then cleared her throat, speaking timidly, "I didn't mean...um...have- have I...offended you?"
The monk cleared his. "You have to understand, shaking hands is frowned upon by my Order, especially with a woman. It's considered rude."
Claire felt the smile leave her face as he said that. Great, she managed to piss off a Buddhist monk. What else could go wrong?
"Oh," she merely replied. Looking ashamedly away, Claire uncomfortably averted her eyes from him, feeling like a child in the principal's office. She then cleared her throat a second time, "So...um...ahh...how do I...greet you properly without causing offense?"
The man got up from his seat and stood before her.
"For Tibetan Monks such as myself," he began, illustrating with his hands, "you hold your hands together at chest height and bow slightly, then say 'Tashi Delek'."
Claire started to mimic the gesture.
"'TAH-shee De-LAY?'" she repeated, phonetically pronouncing the words uncertainly.
"Yes," he nodded. "It means fortunate circumstance, that you are happy to meet them. This is a general Tibetan greeting. The alternative would be to just say a monk's name and give a slight bow."
Claire then tried again.
"I'm Claire. Tashi Delek," she said as she gave a slight bow.
The monk returned the gesture. "I am Jago. Tashi Delek."
As she looked back up, Claire's face flushed with embarrassment. "I am so sorry for my mistake."
Jago politely nodded. "It happens sometimes. Now you know not to make the same mistake twice."
Claire internally winced at his words. Even though he didn't seem to mean to cause offence, it did sting.
"So, uh, it's nice meeting you. Have a good day, and good luck!" she said as she repeated the gesture again.
"Oh! Would you look at that? You're getting the hang of it already!" He said good humoredly, his eyes twinkling with amusement, returning the bow again. "Take care, Miss Redfield."
Once they finished, Jago sat back down while Claire returned back to her friends.
"Everything okay, Claire?" Rebecca asked.
"Yeah, everything's fine," Claire waved. "His name is Jago and he's some sort of Tibetan monk, apparently."
Rebecca gave her a mischievous and suggestive look, causing the older girl to frown.
"No, Rebecca, he's not interested. Trust me."
"I don't know, Claire," Rebecca teased, "you did managed to get him to give you his name."
Claire rolled her eyes, waving her off.
"So what's the deal with him?" Leon asked.
Claire shrugged. "He wants to join the tournament."
Leon frowned.
"What?" Claire asked.
He looked over at Jago, who sat there in his seat with his eyes closed, then looked back to her, "A Tibetan monk? Are you sure that's what he said?"
Claire nodded.
"Yeah. That's what he said he was," she replied. "Why?"
Leon cleared his throat. "Well, I don't claim to be the most knowledgeable person on the subject, but...I'm pretty sure that Tibetan monks are supposed to advocate non-violence. If that's the case, then...why is he here?"
Claire shifted in her seat.
"I don't know any more than you do, but if that's true...it is strange." She then looked seriously at Leon. "What are you thinking?"
Leon crossed his arms, his eyes raised to the ceiling.
"Well, I've never seen a Tibetan monk dressed like him before," he said slowly. "I thought I heard something a few years ago about a tiger cult or something in that country. I don't want to assume anything, but maybe..." He trailed off, a frown forming as he shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking things."
"Hm," Claire hummed.
Before she could comment any further, a voice called from a speaker, "O57. I repeat, 057."
Rebecca tugged at Claire's arm. "That's you!"
"Huh?" Claire said in surprise. "No, it can't be, I'm...057." Her eyes widened. "Oh my God!"
Shooting up to her feet, Claire shakily swept her hands through her hair and looked herself over, then looked over to Rebecca and Leon. "How do I look? Should I take off the vest? It's too flashy, isn't it?"
"You're fine!" Rebecca waved. "Really. Just take a deep breath. Slow, deep breaths."
Claire followed Rebecca's advice, inhaling and exhaling long gulps of air. Taking a sharp breath through her nostrils, she sighed.
"Okay." Nervously clearing her throat, Claire spun around on one foot, staring straight ahead. Beneath her fingerless gloves, her palms felt warm and moist, her legs shaking. Letting out a shaky breath, she cleared her throat again. "
"W-Well, here goes nothing."
She took her first step forward, then the next, then another, and another, and another until, watching as the door ahead drew nearer.
"Come in."
Stepping inside, Claire glanced nervously around. Three people sat together at the back of a room behind a long brown wooden desk, with one or two cameras at the side, one of them being a neatly dressed woman wearing a white blazer with a black blouse and skirt, her blonde hair tied up in a bun, the woman seated between two men.
Looking to the latter two, Claire studied them curiously. One was a man in a grey suit with oily, black hair that was slicked back, but it was the other one that immediately caught her attention; upon seeing the unmistakably, and mysteriously, concealed form of the Baron, Claire felt her breath caught in her throat.
"Take a seat," Baron Von Sabrewulf gestured to the stool that rested seven feet away from them with a gloved hand, his German-accented voice a deep, low growl that sounded menacing.
Nodding, Claire nervously complied, sitting herself down as she shifted her jaw. Raising one leg up over the other, the girl then placed her hands onto her lap and tried to avoid fidgeting, clearing her voice as she gave a smile.
"Hi," she greeted.
"Guten Tag," the Baron nodded his hooded head, his sunglasses-covered eyes watching her. "I am Baron Von Sabrewulf. Seated beside me is my assistant Carol."
The aforementioned woman smiled pleasantly. "How do you do?"
"And this is my friend and bodyguard Dieter."
The grey-suited man gave a small wave. "Hey."
"Would you kindly tell us your name?"
Claire scrunched up her brows, then suddenly felt her eyes spring open like saucers. Had she forgotten to give them her name?!
"Oh! Uh, sorry." She cleared her throat, internally wincing. "My, uh, my name is Claire. Ah, Claire Redfield." She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm, ah, I'm just nervous-"
"It's alright, it's alright!" Baron Von Sabrewulf raised a gloved hand in assurance. "Take a moment to collect yourself."
Giving an appreciative nod, Claire closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.
Just count to four, breathe, then count to four again and exhale.
Exhaling softly, Claire opened her eyes, then cleared her throat again.
"Feel better?" Sabrewulf asked with concern.
Sighing, Claire nodded. "Yeah. Sorry about that."
"Nein, nein!" He waved. "Your behavior is one hundred percent normal. It's not so uncommon."
"Isn't it?" she asked curiously.
"Ja," he nodded. "We've had quite a few fainting incidents in here, actually. Would you like any something to drink before we begin? A glass of water? Orange juice? Apple juice? Coffee?"
She shook her head.
"Nein?"
"No thank you," she answered politely.
"Alright." He turned to the man, Dieter, beside him. "Is the camera recording?"
"Yes, Baron," Dieter replied.
"Okay, then let's begin." The hooded figure then clasped his gloved fingers together as he stared directly at her, her image reflecting off his sunglasses. "Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself."
Claire cleared her throat.
"My name is Claire Redfield, and I'm, uh, nineteen-years-old," she began. "I'm a full-time first-year college student over at the Raccoon City University, and my hobbies include motorcycles, reading, watching the Killer Instinct tournament and video games."
"Alright," Sabrewulf nodded as he made notes. "Do you have a criminal record? We have your criminal record form right here for reference, but it helps being honest in these matters."
She shook her head. "No. I might get the odd email about a library book or video being overdue, but generally I try to stay out of trouble whenever possible. I have nothing to hide."
"That's good to hear," he nodded thoughtfully. "Do you have any debilitating conditions that we should be made aware of, physical or otherwise?"
"No."
"Do you have any psychological problems?"
"No."
"Do you possess any form of cybernetics on your person?"
"No."
"Are you on any sort of medication?"
"No."
"Do you take narcotics?"
"Absolutely not."
"Do you drink alcohol?"
"Definitely no."
"Have you taken anything in the last twenty-four hours?"
"That's a hard no."
"Okay. Are you allergic to anything?"
"No," she answered. "As far as I'm aware, I have no allergies."
"Favorite food?" Dieter piped up.
"Cheeseburgers," Claire answered without hesitation. "They're the nectar of the gods."
An amused smile lit up the man's face.
"You are a fan of the program, you say?" Carol asked.
"Yeah!" the girl nodded enthusiastically. "Ever since I was a child. I have posters, T-shirts, action figures, Happy Meal toys, you name it!"
"Do you have the leather jacket?"
"I wish!" She sighed longingly.
"That's an interesting outfit you have on," the woman commented.
"Thank you," Claire blushed.
"Would it be alright if you stood up and gave us a good look at you?" she asked.
Claire complied, standing up straight like an arrow before turning around to face the door, modeling herself for them.
"Very nice," Carol said approvingly. "I like the embroidery on the back."
"Thank you."
"Are the words 'Made in Heaven' of any significance?"
"It's my favorite song from Queen."
"Ahh," Carol nodded in understanding.
"This was actually a gift from my older brother," Claire said as she sat down on the stool again.
The man beside Sabrewulf scrunched up his brows in thought.
"Redfield...where have I heard that name before?" he wondered aloud.
Claire shifted in her seat, continuing on, "My brother is a member of S.T.A.R.S."
At the mention of S.T.A.R.S., the man suddenly sat up straight in recognition.
"Wait a minute..." he started slowly, "is your brother Chris Redfield? The S.T.A.R.S. guy that punched a boulder or something?"
Claire laughed. "YES!"
"No!" He grinned.
"What?!" Carol said incredulously, looking at the two of them in confusion. "What's this about punching boulders?"
"Last year some hikers got lost in the mountains," Dieter explained. "One of them ended up getting pinned down by a boulder, a fat bastard of a thing, but one of the S.T.A.R.S. officers was reported to have gotten the damn rock off the guy by punching it several times before finally getting it off with an uppercut."
"NO!" She laughed.
"It's true!" Claire vigorously nodded.
"And he's your brother, you say?" the woman inquired interestedly.
She nodded again. "Yes!"
"Was it a big boulder?"
Claire shrugged. "I only know from the papers and the fact that my brother broke his hand getting it off the guy." Her eyes lit up with amusement. "Chris LOVES telling that story to friends during the holidays!"
Dieter laughed heartily. "I bet he does!"
Claire giggled. "It's especially entertaining since he keeps changing the size of the boulder with each retelling. At one point it was ten feet, at another it was the size of a small house. One of these days it will be the size of King Kong."
The man crossed his arms together. "You like poking fun of your brother, don't you?"
"Sometimes," Claire admitted with a playful, teasing flash of mischief. "I like to think I'm keeping him grounded and humble. Somebody has to put him in his place, even if it means deflating his ego a bit now and then."
She watched as the woman shook her head. "Girl, you've just become the most interesting person we have encountered today by far!"
At that, the whole room erupted with laughter, causing Claire to shake away those feelings of anxiety. Sabrewulf was the only one not laughing, merely shaking his hooded head wearily in response.
Wiping his eyes, the man grinned. "Tell me, do you punch boulders yourself?"
The girl laughed again. "No! Absolutely not!"
As the laughter died down, Carol sighed. "So tell me, Ms. Redfield, do you know martial arts?"
Claire fidgeted nervously. "Umm, well I know a couple things that I picked up from my brother. Before S.T.A.R.S., Chris had joined with the Air Force at a pretty young age."
"Really?" The woman sat up, leaning on her arm as she listened intently. "How old had he been when he joined?"
"My age," Claire answered.
"That young?!" Carol said in shock, her jaw dropping. "Oh wow! What did your parents have to say about that?"
The girl slowly dropped her smile.
"...They, uh, didn't really have much to say. Well, they couldn't say anything about it, actually," she said uncomfortably.
"And why is that?"
Claire was quiet for a moment, her eyes lowered to the floor, her hands placed on her lap, fidgeting with the hems of her red cutoff jeans and black shorts.
"Our parents died a few years ago," she answered, her fingers scrunching up.
"Oh God," the woman gasped.
"...How did they die, if you don't mind my asking?" Sabrewulf asked hesitantly. "Would you like to talk about it?"
Claire remained still, then absentmindedly scratched her cheek.
"They were, um, killed in a car crash," she replied, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "I was twelve years old at the time, and, well, I was so confused. I mean, one moment they were there, the next...they were gone. My brother had been looking after me ever since." She gave a small sad smile. "It was- it was during that time that I became attached to your show. I mean, I already was a big fan of it, but one of my fondest memories growing up was spending quality time with my dad and brother in front of the TV while the program played. KI hasn't just been a huge part of my childhood growing up - it was also huge part of my life as well."
"Aw!" the woman gushed.
"Is your brother a fan of the show as well?" Dieter asked.
Claire shook her head. "No, not really. He liked to watch it occasionally, but when the monster characters started to appear," She noticed Sabrewulf stiffening at the mention, "he thought the show was 'too kiddy' for him. His words, not mine." She smiled. "...I just want to say that it's a pleasure meeting you, Baron Von Sabrewulf! You probably get this a lot, but I'm a huge fan of yours! I hope you get well soon, I loved watching you fight!"
She watched as the wheelchair-bound hooded figure reared his head back in surprise, taken off-guard by the enthusiastically cheerful reaction, the thick scarf hiding his features.
"Uh, thank you," he replied, clearing his throat as Claire felt her whole face become flushed.
'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!' part of Claire mentally screamed in mortification as she kicked herself. 'God, this is so embarrassing!'
"So, uh...so why are you here? Why are you fighting? Is your brother here with you?"
Taking in a deep breath, Claire sobered up as she heard the question.
"That's-That's actually why I'm here," she admitted as she nervously cleared her throat. "My brother is in the hospital along with his partner - ah, police partner - and...since he was the breadwinner of the family, I've been trying to support us."
"Oh dear," the woman said as she put a hand to her mouth.
"...What happened?" Sabrewulf asked.
Claire shook her head. "A car accident."
"Another one?!" The man beside Sabrewulf said incredulously.
"A hit-and-run," she clarified.
"Were the police able to catch the one responsible?"
Claire remained still.
"No. No they're-they're still searching for them." Looking down to the floor, Claire suddenly felt very small in front of them. Tiny. "Look, um, I know I probably don't have a shot at this. There are probably better fighters out there with better outfits...but the thing is that I'm desperate. I've been working two jobs, but with the hospital bills piling up more and more along with the various others...I don't know what else to do. Chris is all I have left in terms of family, and...I would do anything for him."
The woman's features softened. "You care a lot about your brother."
Claire gave a single nod. "I do."
Sabrewulf sat quietly in his wheelchair, the hood and scar hiding his reactions. Taking this as a negative sign, Claire got up from her seat, clearing her throat.
"...I...uh...I think I'll just leave," she said uncomfortably. "I can see now that it was a mistake coming here and that I have made a fool of myself-"
"Sit down."
Claire jerked back in surprise, giving the Baron a startled look. "Huh?"
"Please," he gestured to the stool.
Looking uncertainly at the Baron, then back to the offered seat, Claire sat herself back down and looked ahead with uncertainty, waiting to hear what he had to say.
"...Are you sure you really want to do this?"
Claire sat there for a moment. Biting her lip, she gave a nod. "Yes."
Sabrewulf stared her for a long while, then folded his arms.
"You are a curious one, Ms. Redfield," he stated. "As you have pointed out, there are more experienced fighters around."
She lowered her eyes.
"But," he continued, "that said, however... I do see the fire in you. You are a brave girl, Ms. Redfield - driven and determined. I like that. It kind of reminds me of myself when I was younger. I'm not sure how you will fare against the other combatants...but...I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to participate in the tournament."
Claire blinked several times. Surely she misheard.
"...I'm sorry, what?" she said uncomprehendingly.
"You're in, girl," the woman smiled.
Claire's eyes widened as she shot up from her seat.
"For real?!" she said excitedly.
"For real," Sabrewulf nodded. "Welcome to Killer Instinct."
Claire started bouncing up and down screaming.
"OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" Realizing that she was making a spectacle of herself, Claire settled down and cleared her throat. "T-T-Thank you, Baron."
"Keep in mind that I'm only allowing you to enter," the Baron reminded. "You have to win the tournament itself in order to earn your prize."
"Of course, Baron," Claire nodded. "Still, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU so much for this!"
"No trouble at all," Sabrewulf waved dismissively. "I hope you succeed, Ms. Redfield. My prayers are with you and your brother."
"Thank you, Baron," Claire nodded gratefully. "You have no idea how much this means to me! Thank you!"
"Don't mention it. Do you have any questions?"
"Just one."
"And that is?"
Claire's eyes lit up like a child's. "When do I get to see the werewolf?"
Konrad didn't know what was funnier - the question itself, or the rather earnest and expectant way it was expressed.
Letting out a laugh, he shook his head in amusement.
"I'm afraid we have to keep the creatures separate from our competitors," he replied.
"Aw!" The Redfield girl pouted. "I've been hoping to get my picture taken with him."
"It is for the best," Konrad nodded. "You have to understand that it's very...complicated."
"I can imagine," the girl nodded understandingly, "what with all the various gizmos, paint jobs, rigging and so on."
"Right." Konrad shifted uneasily in his seat. "You will need to sign an NDA, or non-disclosure agreement, as the property where the tournament is being held does contain certain projects of a...sensitive nature."
He watched as Dieter handed her a slip of paper along with a pen, watching as the girl scanned through it carefully.
"Also," Konrad continued, "be aware that cell phones and mobiles are not allowed on the property for the sake of security. If you wish to make a call outside, you'll have to use the mainline, but just so that you are aware, all calls will be monitored."
Hearing that, Redfield looked up questioningly at him.
"You can't be too careful in this business," he merely shrugged.
The girl regarded him for a moment, then looked back to the slip of paper. Once she finished, she approached the table and signed her signature, handing it back.
"Thank you again, Baron."
He nodded. "Auf Wiedersehn, Ms. Redfield."
As she turned around to leave, she suddenly paused, hesitating.
"Yes?"
Turning back to face him, Konrad watch as she looked at him with a curious look.
"...Your condition," she said softly, causing him to stiffen, "...is it terminal?"
Konrad shifted in discomfort under the girl's scrutiny.
Seeing his reaction, the Redfield girl suddenly put a hand to her mouth as she became aware of the audaciousness in her question.
"I-I'm sorry, Baron," she apologized. "I really shouldn't have asked. It was none of my business."
"It wasn't," Konrad nodded stiffly, causing her to wince.
The girl then folded one arm across her chest, grabbing hold of the other as it dangled limply at her side.
"I-I just..." she lowered her eyes. "I just wanted to say that I hope you get better, Baron. You have my prayers."
He gave an amused snort. "You make it sound as if I were dead already."
A worried look flashed across her face. "No, that's not-"
"It's fine, it's fine," Konrad raised up his gloved hands placatingly. "I know what you were trying to say. Forgive me for my off-color sense of humor. Things have been a little difficult." He then gave single appreciative nod, clearing his throat. "Thank you for the...sentiment."
The girl gave a small friendly smile, and nodded back.
As she turned around to leave, Konrad found himself staring at the embroidered words as they leapt off from the red vest in yellow.
Couldn't have picked truer words himself.
As Claire exited the room, she felt herself dazed and disoriented, a flood of relief surging through her.
"Claire?" Looking up, Claire found herself meeting Rebecca's expectant eyes. "Is everything okay? How did it go?"
Claire shook her head dazedly, then let out a light, relieved laugh.
"I got in!"
Rebecca's jaw dropped. "What?!"
"I got in!"
The girls screeched as Claire pulled Rebecca into a bearhug, lifting the smaller girl off the ground as the two of them bounced around in excitement.
"Congratulations, Claire," Leon smiled. "So what happens now?"
"I'll need to go home, pack up some things and make sure everything is locked and turned off," Claire answered. "I'll have to come back here tomorrow at nine a.m. on the rooftop, where a helicopter will be taking us to Baron Von Sabrewulf's mansion." She shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe it! Honest to God, I can't believe it."
"Just one step at a time, Claire," Leon said. "You still need to focus and win the tournament first. It's not over yet."
"I know, I know!" she waved, her eyes softening as she enveloped Rebecca and Leon in a tight hug. "Thank you so much for being here for me, guys."
"We're glad to be here, Claire." Rebecca smiled as she hugged her back.
In that moment, Claire felt pure bliss, as if she were blessed.
As soon as Claire got home, she went about cleaning and vacuuming everything. By the time she was finished, every plate and bowl was scrubbed clean and put back in its original place on the shelf in the kitchen, every corner sparkling clean. Every sock and piece of clothing was washed and put away.
Getting out her backpack, Claire stuffed in a fresh pair of clothes, underwear and toiletries, using every pocket available. Once she finished, she looked quietly around, inspecting every surface.
Every piece of garbage was thrown out. Not even a single dust bunny anywhere.
Crossing her arms, Claire felt a surge of pride come over.
Chris will be so happy to see this when he comes home.
At the thought of her brother, Claire let out a sigh.
There was just one more thing she needed to do.
Claire stood by the hospital bed, watching Chris' unconscious form.
"Hey Chris!" She said softly. "I've got good some news for you."
Her brother said nothing, the ECG beeping way at a steady pace.
"I managed to get into the tournament!" She smiled.
The girl fidgeted nervously before her brother, even as he lay there unconscious.
Part of her hoped he would just wake up to say something to reprimand her, but he just kept lying there on the bed, looking as if he were asleep.
Folding her arms, Claire absentmindedly brushed some bangs out from her eyes.
"I know what you are thinking," she spoke softly. "'What are you, a moron?!' It's just..." She bit her lip nervously, then put a hand over her mouth. "You know I've been wanting to do this for quite a while now." She shook her head. "I'm-I'm not going to pretend that I haven't dreamt about this moment, but I swear...if I knew this was how I was going to get in, I would take it all back. I would..."
She stopped, closing her eyes as she swallowed. "I would never wish for you to get hurt." Wiping her eyes, Claire stepped closer to her brother, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to be gone a while, but I promise, Chris, I'll succeed. I'll find a way to pay for your hospital bills. Yours and Jill's. Rebecca and Leon will come to visit you often, and I'm going to check in every day so that I know that you are okay, alright? I'm...I'm not abandoning you. I would never abandon you. I will...I will never abandon you."
Claire's eyes burned as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Leaning forward, she gently placed a kiss on her brother's forehead, then gave a slight squeeze of his shoulder.
"Good bye, Chris."
As Claire left the hospital bed, tears continued to pour out, even as she went back home.
Claire stood before Leon, the sun setting in the distance, coloring everything with romantic hues of orange, red and gold.
Taking her hands into his, Leon gently cupped her chin. "Claire," he spoke softly, "there's something I need to tell you."
The girl swallowed anxiously as a blush formed on her cheeks, her heart pounding in her chest. "What-What is it, Leon?" she asked in a timid though hopeful voice, trying to hide her excitement.
Leon opened his mouth...then bleated. Loudly.
"BAAAAAAHH, BAAAAAAAHHHH! MAAAAAAAHHH, MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH, BAAAAHH!" He cried, his eyes possessing a crazed, glassy stare.
Claire blinked. "What the fuck?!"
"BAAAAAAHH, BAAAAAAAHHHH! MAAAAAAAHHH, MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH, BAAAAHH!"
Opening her eyes, Claire turned and looked around in confusion before realizing the truth.
Her sheep alarm clock had gone off.
Frowning, she reached over and turned off the alarm, then lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
"Goddamn it," Claire muttered.
She was having such a good dream.
Laying there for a moment, she waited a minute, then rolled onto her side. Grabbing the clock, she checked the time.
Six a.m.
Sitting herself up, Claire yawned and stretched.
"Well," she said to no one, "time to get ready."
By the time Claire finished using the washroom, bathed and got dressed, she found Leon and Rebecca just outside her front door.
"All ready?" Leon asked.
Claire nodded, adjusting the backpack. "Yeah, I just need to lock up."
"Okay. You have everything you need?" Rebecca asked.
"Yeah, yeah," Claire waved. Looking behind her, Claire regarded the tiny house and its aged furniture. She was going to miss this. It wasn't glamourous by any means, but it was home.
"Come on, Claire, you're going to be late!" Rebecca urged.
Stirring from her thoughts, Claire then gave a nod, giving one final glance to her home before shutting the door behind her.
It took thirty minutes to find a parking place.
Upon entering the building, Claire was surprised to see over a dozen or so people inside.
"I'm guessing these are the other competitors?" Leon commented.
"Looks like it," Claire nodded, the girl pausing at a particular individual sitting alone on a bench in the corner, a smile forming on her face as she gave a wave. "Hey!"
Jago looked up from the bench as she approached along with the others. "Hm? Oh, hello."
Claire placed her hands together and bowed slightly.
"Tashi Delek, Jago," she said as she gave a slight bow and a smile.
He returned the gesture. "Tashi Delek, Ms. Redfield." Jago then gave a curious glance to her companions. "And who are these?"
"These are my friends Rebecca and Leon. Guys, this is Jago."
Rebecca gave a polite nod. "Hello."
Leon held out his hand.
"Nice to meet you," he said.
Jago's brow twitched as Claire cleared her throat.
"Um, it's impolite to shake hands, Leon," she said.
"Indeed," Jago nodded.
Leon drew his hand away. "Sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect."
"It happens," the monk said calmly.
"So, you've actually managed to get accepted into the tournament!" Claire commented.
Jago gave a nod. "Indeed I have."
"Well, I wish you luck!"
As they were about to part, a murmur rose from the people around them.
"What's going on?" Rebecca asked in confusion.
Claire looked around, then stopped at the front door, her eyes bulging open.
"Holy shit!"
Stepping into the lobby was a tall African American man of six-one and two hundred and twenty-one pounds, his form so powerfully built that he was a rippling specimen of pure muscle, looking more like an ebony sculpture than a living person. His black hair done in a short crop top, the man had strong rugged features with a broken nose and a goatee, his eyes hidden behind a pair of blue sunglasses. His manner of dress was garish, consisting of a a red, white and blue star-spangled vest done in the style of the American flag with a flared-up collar and a white tank top underneath, the words "COMBO" scrawled along his chest in black, his forearms concealed in hand wraps. Completing the ensemble were a pair of long camo pants and thick military boots.
Leon frowned.
"What the hell is he doing here?" he said in a disapproving voice.
Claire was absolutely speechless as T.J. Combo swaggered inside with the cockiest smirk she had ever seen, a murmur rising from the other people in the room, most of it in disapproval. A lot of them were booing, and quite honestly, Claire couldn't really blame them.
"There's no way Ultratech is letting him enter the tournament, are they?" Rebecca frowned.
"Why? What is the problem?" Jago asked.
"You've never heard of T.J. Combo?" Claire said in surprise.
The monk shook his head in answer.
"He was a boxing champion who cheated his way to the top," Leon replied. "His arms have titanium shaft implants in them, the very same ones used to help rehabilitate athletes and improve strength in their bones and musculature."
Claire watched uneasily as one of the fighters got up from his seat, a small thin young guy of twenty-six that stood at five-ten and was dressed in a tank top and Army regalia, his short hair done in a military-styled crew cut with the front part of his hair all spiked up with gel.
"You've got some nerve showing your face around here, Garret!" The man growled.
T.J. smirked. "It's a free country, Jack."
"Yeah, but it shouldn't mean a fucking disgrace like you should be part of this tournament!" The man said as he tightened his fists angrily.
The boxer folded his arms impatiently. "Ya got a problem with me?"
"Yeah. As a matter of fact I do," the man said. "You broke my brother's jaw in the ring with those fancy implants of yours, the same ones relatives of mine are using for combatting arthritis." His lips curled in disgust, his fists clenching harder. "You have no right being in the ring, just as you have no right having those implants. The sight of you here makes me sick to my stomach. Get the fuck out of here, you fucking faggot."
T.J. got up into the man's face, towering over him. "Try and make me, bitch."
"Alright, break it up!" A guard yelled as he stepped between the two men. "Back off."
"Is he part of the tournament?" the man asked.
"I'm afraid he is," the guard shrugged. "Nobody is to fight outside the ring. Back off, or you will be escorted out."
Claire watched as the man looked between T.J. and the guard, then stormed off.
Sighing in relief, Claire perked up as the speaker went off.
"Attention all fighters, your transport is now ready. Please gather your things together and head to the rooftop."
Claire watched as people around them hugged their various friends and families. Looking to her friends, Claire nodded.
"Well, this is it," she said.
Rebecca stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, causing Claire's heart to melt.
"Take care of yourself, Claire," she said quietly.
"You too, Rebecca," Claire said back to her, tightening her hold.
Pulling away, Claire then hugged Leon.
"Take good care of Rebecca for me, okay?" Claire said.
"I will," he assured.
"We'll also be sure to look after your brother as well," Rebecca added. "If we hear anything, we'll let you know."
Pulling away, Claire wiped her eyes. "Thanks, guys."
Rebecca sniffled. "Goodbye, Claire."
Claire sniffed. "Goodbye, Rebecca."
As she turned away, Claire adjusted the strap on her shoulder and followed the crowd up the various flights of stairs, the tears never leaving until she finally arrived at the helicopters, a collection of Bell-206s with thumping loud propellers that sounded like drums.
Once she got onboard, Claire looked out the window and stared at the rest of Raccoon City, watching as it grew smaller and smaller until finally it disappeared from view.
And that concludes this chapter. :)
Guest: No worries. While sexiness has certainly been a part of both Ada and Orchid's characters, rest assured that those aspects are only one part of what makes them tick. The way I see Ada/Orchid, she is essentially a rose - beautiful, but deadly. The interesting thing about both characters is that they're both beauty and beast rolled into one (or rather two) unique packages, and you'll be seeing that.
Also, I just want to give shout-outs to The Goddess Iusaaset, Dusk Evermore and antihero276 and highly recommend everyone read their works, especially the latter's story "A Nightmare On Elm Street 6" - it is a really cool fic worth checking out, and they are all wonderful writers deserving more readers.
Hope you're enjoying it, everyone! Take care.
