Author's Note: Another story, I'm sorry. But this one is Resident Evil, which I love! ~.~ Don't hate me. I will keep working on my other stories, I promise, but I think the Resident Evil side of fanfiction deserves some love. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Warnings: Language and OOCness.

Word Count: 7,338

Beep.

A soft hum and a lightly flashing blue light brings Sherry Birkin's attention off of her thoughts whilst staring unseeing out the window to the blue phone settled in her lap, having been left there after she had last used it to check her emails. She blinks a few times, trying to pull her muddled brain from the gutters. It had been a long time since she had last gotten a good night's sleep.

She looks around the busy train, in the seats to her right, just past the isle, is a mother and her young daughter arguing about a birthday party the little girl wants to go to over the weekend. Sherry smiles faintly at them, wondering if that could have been her in a different life. Worrying about where she will go next to have fun. Bioterrorism is a very real threat in everyone's lives, but most get to live in-between the outbreaks. It almost feels like nothing happens in Sherry's life, or the lives of her friends when an outbreak has not occurred. Sure, life goes on, but the most memorable parts happen in the thick of death and fear and worry.

And deep inside Sherry's soul it burns her. It burns so hot that life has to be this way. She wished that none of this had ever happened. She wished bioterrorism wasn't a reality. That the very real possibility that this city - or any city for that matter - could be the next one hit with every and all of the horrors that bioterrorism had to offer.

Sherry forces the thoughts away, turning her gaze down to the phone laying on her thighs. She picks it up and turns the screen on, seeing it's a message from a random number unidentified, but Sherry recognized it. It was the only number that she didn't have saved in her phone that she used often.

"Still waiting on my 50 bucks, Super Girl," the phone reads.

Sherry smiles, unable to stop it from spreading across her face. She ponders for a moment, wondering how to respond, before smiling again and typing out her response, "When we see each other again, I will make good on my word."

Sherry looks back out the window, watching the darkness of the underground subway pass her by in silence. She sees her own reflection in the glass of the window, listening to the din of the subway car. She crosses one leg over the other, trying to relax. She had had a rough day at work, still trying to organize the government after the surprise attack on Tall Oaks and the death of the President. There is still law, and structure, it's just badly fractured since the attack. America was down, for a bit, but it is not out and it has used this time since the China incident to rebuild and regrow. It has been a few months since China and things have returned to a form of normality.

As acceptable as normal can be given what happened. China is a long way from recovery, but Terra Save is already there, helping with the aftermath. Sherry couldn't be more proud of Claire and her organization.

Sherry's phone beeps again, pulling her from her thoughts once again. Her screen lights up with, "You'd better. It's a promise."

It's banter between them. Even though they haven't actually seen one another since they separated after the incident in China, they text often. Sometimes, they even call. All that Sherry knows is that he was helping clean up the middle eastern countries of the B.O.W infestation. While logically, Sherry knew that he probably wasn't even putting a dent in the outbreaks there, she was still happy and hopeful for what he was trying to do. So, she didn't mind that he fell off the face of the planet, so long as he checked in every couple of hours with texts and the occasional call, and she sometimes got to read up on the amusing banter between Jake and fellow BSAA agents in BSAA reports during Jake Muller Spottings.

If nothing else, he does have a way with words.

"Excuse me," a woman, standing beside Sherry's seat, says hesitantly, to catch her attention.

Sherry jumps, so lost in her thoughts - again - to notice that someone had approached her. She turns to look up at the woman, curiously. "Um, yes?"

The woman crosses her arms over her chest. "Do you happen to be a Miss.. um, Sherry Birkin?"

Sherry may not have been an agent for long, but she still had instincts keen enough to know that someone knowing her name on some random subway ride home form work and approaching her to confirm it wasn't a good thing most of the time. And the way Sherry's luck throughout her life has been thus far, she doubted it was going to be one of the good things.

Sherry opens her mouth, her immediate instinct is to say no, but the words didn't come. All she could do was stare dumbly, mouth hanging open, before closing it, realizing she took too long to say anything at all. Her silence was the affirmation.

The woman looks down-hearted. "I see..." she says, closing her eyes.

"What do you mea-" Sherry starts before the subway breaks suddenly lock into place, making the wheels screech loudly. Everyone on the subway lurches forward at the force, the sounds of panicked and frightened screams fill the car as the lights flicker. Sherry's phone goes flying off of her lap as the subway screeches to a stop and the lights flicker again. There is a distinct sound of a door being kicked open and people screaming. Sherry quickly climbs to her feet, pale blue eyes scanning the area for any immediate danger.

The woman is gone, but in her place is smoke, filling up the car. People all jump to their feet and run toward the front of the car, trying to move to the next one when they accidently bottleneck near the door with the force of trying to escape, making it impossible for anyone to move forward. The screams increase as the smoke fills the car quickly.

Sherry brings the sleeve of her jacket to her nose, trying to keep the smoke out. She can already see people toppling over each other in their haste to escape, only to fall unconscious. The screams are now mixed with coughing, but it's too late, the car is trapped. Sherry drops to her stomach, trying to find her phone, locating it under the seat in front of her. She reaches out for it, letting out a yelp of pain when the frantic man in that seat steps on her fingers. She yanks her hand for a moment, feeling the painful throbbing in her middle and pointer fingers on her left hand. She shakes it away, forcing herself to focus before quickly reaching out and grabbing her phone and pulling it to her chest.

Thankfully it was undamaged in the drop.

She quickly scrolls through her contact list, squinting through the smoke until she hits Leon's name, hitting call. Her lungs burn when she breaths in the smoke, forcing her to curl into a ball, coughing hardily, trying to clear her airways.

After the fifth ring, Leon's voicemail kicks in. "It's Director Leon Kennedy, I couldn't get to the phone right now but will return your call at the earliest convenience. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you. Thanks."

"Leon!" Sherry yells, hoping he'll be able to hear her over the panic still ensuing in the subway car. "I'm in the subway! We're under attack! I'm not sure who or what they want! They are knocking everyone out with some sort of gas! It could be some kind of - " A horrible thought hits Sherry. Could this be the release of another virus? So soon after the C-virus? Well, if that's so, then her new supervisor was right, "Bioterrorism doesn't take a day off for anyone."

If he hadn't just started today, she probably would have contacted him with this, but it's too late now.

Sherry feels someone to her side, she turns to see a hulking figure, covered head to toe in military gear and a gas mask, classic. He brings up the butt of his gun and strikes Sherry's right temple so hard the first time she sees stars, and is dazed. She holds her arms up in an attempt to protect her head but the second one knocks her out.

"That'll be all for today, Ms. Valentine," one of the scientist says, preoccupied with whatever he was scribbling down on the clipboard in his hand. Jill stares at him for a long moment, wondering if perhaps there was more to be said, but after a full minute of listening to the pencil scratch against the paper, she figured that really would be it, and turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

It's been over three years since she got here. She's thankful not to be public enemy number one after what happened in Kijuju. She played a large part in that incident, and this time it wasn't in the deconstruction of the horrible situation, it was the build up. It was because of her that the incident was a very real situation. In the back of her mind, when she's alone and it's dark in her room with nothing but the images of the people infected with Uroboros bombarding her mind, she blames herself immensely.

She should have known she wouldn't have been able to kill Wesker when she tackled him out that window. To be honest, she actually didn't think it would kill him, she just wanted to give Chris the time he would need to be able to end their ex-Captain once and for all. What she never would have suspected was that she would have not only survived the fall, but that Wesker actually went out of his way to save her life.

Preserve, is more like it. He didn't do it for any noble reasoning. He did it so that he could later use her against Chris. In some ways, she wished that fall had killed her so that all those people would still be alive today, but in other ways, she knew that if that hadn't happened, Chris never would have done what only he could have done.

Chris killed Albert Wesker.

Although, unfortunately, that wasn't the end of bioterror. Now that the world had a taste for it, the crooked minds out there could no longer let it go. Now it's one big horrible game of who-can-out-do-who. And while that was always the way the world was before Umbrella, it now had a new category. Bio-weaponry. Jill just couldn't understand it. Someone or something pissed you off, so the whole world has to be destroyed? It just didn't make sense to her.

Jill heads back to her room, closing the door firmly behind herself, pausing to catch her reflection in the mirror across from the door. Her hair had grown longer these last few years, going to the middle of her back, pulled back into a ponytail and still as platinum blond as it had been back in Kijuju. While she didn't mind the fact that it was blond, or that it was longer than what she was really used to, it was what it represented. She was like that now because of what Wesker had done to her. All the experiments, the tampering. All of it made her look like this now. Physical proof that Kijuju, and Wesker, will stay with her for the rest of her life.

Jill peaks at her blue eyes beneath her BSAA cap that Barry had sent her about a week after she had been sent here. As far as she's come to learn, she's not infections and can't pass on her mutated virus to anyone, but now they were testing vaccines with it, very similar to what they had done with Sherry Birkin, Claire had muttered when she came to visit about a year after Jill was brought here. She couldn't have many guests unless they had the right credentials and everyone knew that Jill couldn't contaminate anyone.

The newly made blond had kept in touch with Claire and Barry on regular occasions, and even a call or two from Chris but other than that, she was practically an exile from the world. She didn't blame people for being weary of her, but she did miss human contact more than she would willingly admit out loud. Although, over the years she has kept herself in tip-top shape for when she can return to the BSAA and even spent a lot of time practicing on the piano. She didn't have as much time to do that simple passion since the Mansion incident and then the fall of Umbrella and the creation of the BSAA, but these last few years off had been what she needed to really get back into it.

Not much of an audience, except for Claire, when she comes to visit, but it was still nice to forget the world for while whilst she played. She heard about the attack on Tall Oaks and then again in China. She watched the news as word spread of all the people responsible for ending the reign of terror the Derek Simmons, National Security Advisor of the United States, and Ada Wong, had unleashed on the world in the form of the C-virus.

Leon Kennedy, Helena Harper, Piers Nivans and Chris Redfield.

The media doesn't know everything and ask many questions, but Jill knew a lot about what happened from Claire, who heard from Chris, and Barry. She knew that Sherry Birkin had somehow played a roll in the cure for the C-virus along with some unknown man, but Claire didn't know specifics and Barry was tight lipped. Chris called her a few weeks after China, drunk and needing to talk. And speak, they did, but about everything except for what happened to his KIA partner, which was the source of his grief.

He rambled on about not letting Pierce's death - sacrifice, as Chris kept calling it - be in vain. That he would get back to work as soon as he could, lead Alpha Team back into the fray and do what he did best. While Jill could understand his need to keep moving, to try and find something positive in the shitty situation that surrounded China, she also knew he had to slow down and process what had happened. She found it strangely ironic that she couldn't even follow her own advice, but by the end of their four hour long phone call, he sounded better - and sober - and promised he would find some time to really visit her before they hung up. She believed he would try, but didn't hold her breath.

People with Chris's skillset were few and far between. He couldn't be kept out of the fight for too long. The BSAA needed him, she understood. He would try to visit, but duty called, and she would never blame him for that.

She walks over to the large piano in the corner of her room. It took a lot of coercing and puppy-dog pleading before she was allowed to get one. She sits down and softly runs her long, strong fingers across the ivory and black keys, before closing her eyes and playing a piece she had long since memorized long before she was brought to this facility to be tested.

She listened to the keys being played and hoped that each second filled with this noise, brought her closer to her release. No one told her when she was going to be let out, not even Barry had heard for certain. "Any day now," was all she could get from him, but she was hopeful.

In case she was still a threat, her room was soundproof, but riddled with cameras. It was made of hardy materials so that she couldn't break out, if she tried, and in some ways, that was to blame for them getting so close. Had she been able to hear them coming, perhaps she could have been able to stop them. But they were outside her door, gassing her room before she even knew the facility was under attack.

"Where should we put these, Claire?" one of the Terra Save members asks, carrying a box full of supplies.

Claire smiles playfully, seeing the scrawny boy trying to hold up the heavy box that probably weighed as much as he did. She takes an exaggerated moment to look around, making him groan in annoyance before taking pity on him and pointing toward one of the many tents they had set up all around the infected areas within China's borders.

"Over there, thanks."

"Yeah, yeah." The kid grunts, obeying.

Claire lets out a little laugh, marking something on the clipboard in her hand before looking around the bustling area for something that needed her attention. They were helping spread the vaccine and killing off any remnant infected alongside the Chinese police, and bringing basically anything they do, and will, need to finally help China get back on it's feet.

"Hey Claire!"

The younger Redfield sibling turns, eyes scanning the crowd for the person calling out to her. It Moira, she's on the back of a truck filled with medical supplies and food, a huge face-splitting smile flashing at her. She waves her hands around in greeting.

"Look at what I got! The old man came through! The North American Branch and the London Branch of the BSAA held a fund raisers and really pulled through! We've got three more trucks on the way!" She laughs happily.

Claire makes her way over to the giddy dark haired girl who's so happy, she's practically glowing. Claire pauses a moment as people nudge past, before stopping next to the truck and holding a hand out for the younger girl to take. She does and hops down, kicking up dirt from the worn sidewalks.

"Great catch," Claire murmurs, watching Terra Save members along with volunteers from all over begin removing crates from the truck. "Remind me to buy Barry that expensive whisky he likes as thanks."

Moira laughs, crossing her arms over her chest, and leans on one hip with attitude, a cunning smirk on her lips. "You and me both, Claire. I guess we may even have to splurge and take him out for dinner too."

Claire holds up her hands. "Woah, Moira, let's not get crazy with this."

Moira throws her head back in a bark of a laugh. "Yeah, you might be right."

"I'm kidding," Claire says, playfully, "but that'll all have to wait until we get back. But the thank you can come tonight. Don't forget to give him a call, alright? I will too." She reaches out and puts a hand onto Moira's shoulder and give her a knowing look. Moira nods once, showing she understands. Her relationship with her dad was finally becoming good again.

"Oh!" Moira says, turning to the side to show off lean legs and a pistol holster wrapped around thigh. "I forgot to tell you. I was certified last time I was in the States. My old man sent this to me as congratulations. Pretty good, right?"

Claire whistles, looking down at the shiny piece. "Looks good, Moira. I'm glad you're finally able to put the past behind you. Not just because now you can use a gun, but because you and Barry now have a good relationship. That's the point that I'm thankful for. If there is anything good about that entire situation, it was that the two of you could make amends, so there's that."

Moira nods. "Yeah, well, that was a really shitty situation, but at least we don't have to worry about that anymore."

Claire makes a face at that and does a sweep of the arm around them, gesturing to the scene they are in the center of. "Out of the frying pan and into the oven, or so they say." Moira makes a noise of agreement, looking around them for a moment. After a few seconds of silence, Claire says, "Well then, these people still need our help. Let's get going."

Moira mock salutes, giving the redhead a wink. "You got it, boss-lady! Let's get to work!"

They turn to help when the radio in Claire's ear crackles and a voice comes from the other side. "Claire, there is a man here that has to talk to you about the future of the restoration here. I told him you were busy but he's being persistent. Should I send him away?"

"Um," Claire says looking over at a curious Moira. "Can you handle this, Moira?"

The punk-like girl nods. "Sure. Needed somewhere?"

"Yup," Claire says before putting her hand to her ear piece. "Alright, Chad, I'll be right down there. North entry?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright, I'll be right there," Claire says into the ear piece. Then pats Moira on the shoulder before slipping past her and heading to the North barricade. Unfortunately there is still a lot of infected running around, still and they were trying to make this area as safe as possible until all of them are gone. So, they made this into a safe zone for the people. They are expanding more and more each day.

Hopefully soon China will be back to normal. Or, at least as normal as it can be after losing so many people. It was a horrible hit to their economy, and population, that while, optimistically, they can rebuild, the effects will be felt for a very long time to come.

As Claire nears the gate, the guard posted there gives her a little wave. "He's right over there, ma'am."

"Thanks, Chad," Claire says, patting him on the shoulder. The man before her was a standard Chinese man in a nice suit. There was nothing extraordinary about him. The only thing that was somewhat odd was his twitching. His hands and his face, as he spoke, would twitch. Like it was a tick he couldn't control, and while it was distracting, Claire tried to listen closely to what he was asking her. As soon as she managed to ignore his twitch, she realized his English was damn near perfect. He may be Chinese, but either he's been learning English from someone who spoke it fluently, or he was born in an English speaking country.

Normally there would be any number of reasons for these things, but the reason it went from odd to alarming, was his twitchy posture and perfect English lilt suddenly stopped. His English, which could be seen as very natural, talk-about-the-weather sort of talk, suddenly turned formal and his twitching stopped, as if it was an act the entire time.

Claire's eyes land on his hands, narrowing in suspicion before raising to his dark eyes and friendly smile. "It will be an honor working with you, Ms. Redfield."

"What are you talking about?" Claire asks, taking a step back to put a bit of distance between them, should he try something unsavory. "What's going on around here?"

"Everything," the man says simply, folding his hands neatly in front of him, posture strong, "will be understood in time."

An explosion behind her pulls Claire's attention away from the man for a split second before she pulls out her gun and aims it between his eyes. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Everything," the man says again, closing his eyes, "will be understood in time."

A shadow in the corner of her eye, pulls Claire's attention toward it to see a man, hidden in the darkness with a gun pointed at her. The only way she saw it was the glint off the barrel. They both fire. The first to hit is Claire's shot. He lets out a yell of pain and falls behind the building in retreat. Claire was going to give chase, but then remembered the Chinese man, turned to him, ready to shoot when he stuck a needle into her neck and injected her with whatever was in it. Acting on instinct, despite her darkening vision, she kicks the man hard in the gut and lets off another round, but this time into the man in front of her. She hears his grunt in pain and see him fall before passing out herself.

"Are you okay?"

Leon looks over at the passenger of his car. "Yeah, why?"

Helena gives him a droll look, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, considering this is the ninth time you've sighed since we got into the car..." she glances down at the clock, "Oh, ten minutes ago, I was wondering if you had something that you wanted to talk about."

Leon turns his gaze back to the road in front of him. "No, not at all. I'm just tired of all these meetings. I haven't been back to the office in almost three days. I'm almost scared to see how much the paperwork waiting for me since the Tall Oaks incident has since multiplied."

Helena makes a noise in the back of her throat. "Alright," she says, "I'll give you that one. I'm not looking forward to what's waiting for me. Especially since I went from wanted for the President's death to dead to being a big hero who stopped the President's true killer. And on top of that, they seem to think I need to be in on these meetings too. I don't know anything they are saying nor do I think I want to. How do you do it?"

Leon laughs, dryly. "I grit my teeth and bare it. It's the way my life has turned out. Very little time for things outside politics now-a-days. That's just the world I live in, and now you too. Get used to it." He gives her a more genuine smile. "It gets easier. Sort of."

Helena raises an eyebrow. "Uh huh. And how is your love life doing, might I ask?"

Leon looks surprised at her bluntness. "Well... it's... going..."

Helena doesn't look the slightest bit pleased with that answer. "And how is your family?"

"I'm sure their still out there somewhere..."

"What about any pets?"

"Are you nuts?" Leon scoffs. "There's no way a pet would survive with me. And it's not because I'm never at my apartment, but the fact that I shouldn't be trust with taking care of anyone."

Helena looks at him with a disbelieving face. "We'll get to the fact that you don't go home later. What about when you took care of Ashley Graham?"

Leon rolls his eyes. "I rescued her. Not took care of her. It's completely different. Besides that, she was old enough to know how to take care of herself for the most part. She wasn't a little girl like Sherry."

Helena waves her hands around. "And what about Sherry Birkin? You took care of her!"

"Not as well as I would have liked..." Leon mutters under his breath, an angry scowl crossing his face.

"What?" Helena asks, leaning in a bit, unable to hear him.

"Nothing," Leon says dismissively. "It was different then too. Both Ada and Claire were there."

"Ada Wong helped take care of Sherry?" Helena asks incredulously, unable to hide her disbelief.

Leon doesn't respond right away, not really knowing how to answer that. "In... her own ways," he finally says, glancing over at the woman next to him to see her staring at him blankly. He lets out a long winded sigh, looking back at the road. "What is your point, Helena?"

Helena looks forward too. "My point is that this life of being a hero... well, it doesn't appear to be as...glamorous as people would like to make it appear."

Leon doesn't say anything for a long time, watching the cars in front of him slow down at a red light. It's getting dark out and it's been another long day. "It never is, Helena," Leon says truthfully. "Just think about it like this, so long as what you do ends up helping people, who are we to argue the long hours or the lack of a private or personal life?"

"I suppose you're right..." Helena says, sinking into her seat a bit. Her phone in her pocket beeps. She pulls it out of her back pocket and answers the phone call. "Helena Harper, here."

"Helena, it's Hannigan. I'm sorry to bother you now that you're finally off duty but is Leon with you?"

"Leon?" Helena says, shooting a look at he blond in the seat next to her. Leon's blue eyes fly over to her too, going back and forth from the road to her. "Yes, Hannigan, he's with me. We are heading back to our hotel now. What's going on?" She turns the phone on speaker.

"I've been trying to reach his phone, but it's been turned off. I knew you guys were booked in back to back meetings, but it's urgent. Intel out of Tatchi is spreading about an attack on the district. A few bombs went off within the safe zone around early morning their time. Approximately 9:42 but nothing major was hit and no one was too badly hurt."

"Probably a diversion of some sort, then," Leon says.

"Right you are, Leon," Hannigan says. "Whomever these people are, they managed to kidnap two people from the district in the chaos."

"Who was it?" Helena asks.

"Leon," Hannigan says slowly, making the blond's fists to curl around the wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. "It was Moira Burton, daughter of Barry Burton of the BSAA and Claire Redfield."

"Redfield..." Helena says softly, recognizing the name, looking over at a pensive looking Leon.

"Damn it," Leon hisses through his teeth. "What about the BSAA?"

"No word yet," Hannigan says. "But Leon... that isn't all. On the news today, a few hours ago in D.C, there was a subway abduction. A subway was attacked and everyone was gassed into unconsciousness, but once the train never made it to the station they sent out teams to look for it and found it stopped halfway to it's destination. The perpetrators responsible were gone, but only one person was unaccounted for. Witness say a girl with short blond hair and big blue eyes with a gun in a side holster."

Leon's heart sinks and Helena immediately knows who it is. "Was it Sherry Birkin?"

"I thought so too," Hannigan says grimly. "So, I tried reaching her everywhere I could think. Her work, home and cell. She hasn't answered any of my calls. I put out an alert for our agents, should they see her to notify me, but..."

"Damn it!" Leon hisses, slapping the wheel before looking around unseeing, trying to think of what to do. Someone honks behind him and he takes a slow breath, calming himself down before continuing driving, making sure his anger doesn't endanger anyone on the road.

"Good," Leon finally says. "Put Claire and Moira Burton's descriptions out there too. We have to face the real possibility that it was the same people that took all three girls. Make sure someone notifies Barry and Chris, we may need the BSAA's assistance in this. The two of them have a lot of pull, especially together. Anything else strange I should know about?"

"Not that I know of," Ingrid says slowly. "I'm sorry, Leon."

"Don't worry about it. We'll be heading straight there," Leon glances over at Helena to see if she was okay with that, she nodded in affirmation, before continuing, "It'll be about two hours. See what you can find out."

"Roger," Hannigan says, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Be careful you two."

"We will," Helena says before the line is cut. She looks back over at the now frowning blond. "Leon..." A bright light to passed Leon catches Helena's attention. A large truck heading right for them. Her eyes widen and she yells out, "Leon, look out!" Leon looks over in time for the car to run the red and hit the side of Leon and Helena's car, forcing the airbags to deploy in their faces and the car to spin into traffic, getting hit once more, this time on Helena's side, before everything stops.

"What did you just say to me?" Chris says dangerously, staring at the man across from him.

Barry Burton, frowning angrily and completely unaffected by the rage seeping off of the muscle-bound Alpha Team captain in front of him. He interlaces his fingers on the table between them, chin clenched. "I said," he grounds out, "Moira and Claire were kidnapped out of China."

Chris brings his right thumb up to his lips, chewing on the nail for a moment before dropping his hand onto the table. "That's my sister, Barry!" Chris snaps, infuriated by Barry's even voice.

"And that's my daughter, Chris!" Barry snaps back, just as quickly as Chris finished talking. "I knew if I told you over the phone we'd lose track of you while you went on a wild goose chase. We need to put our heads together for this one. No more running rogue, you hear? I was already contacted by FOS about a half hour ago, they are offering their assistance in locating Moira and Claire. I'm in contact with a miss Ingrid Hannigan. She's been filling me in on everything they know. But Chris," Barry leans in close, eyes locked onto the younger man in front of him, "Hannigan tells me that there is a possible third person kidnapped. Down in the states."

Chris takes a moment to catch his breath, trying to calm down. Once he manages to see past the red and relaxes, his mind clears up and he can think a little more clearly. "When, where and who?"

"Same day," Barry says slowly, "D.C subway, and they believe it's an agent by the name of Sherry Birkin."

Chris's brown eyes narrow at the name. "Sherry Birkin too? The only connection I can think of would be Raccoon City, but Moira was never part of that."

"No," Barry agrees, "but I was, in a way. I was part of the Mansion Incident."

"You think this might be a jab at you somehow?" Chris asks. "That explains Moira, but not Claire or Sherry."

Barry grunts, rubbing his facial growth. "God damn it all, Chris. I'm too damn old for this to keep happening to me. What could it be this time, you think?"

Chris scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Shit, Barry, I don't know. It could be anything at this rate. The three of them have to be important to these people for some reason, but who knows if we'll be able to wrap our minds around that one. So, we should focus on what we can understand."

Barry leans forward on his elbows, resting on the table. "Go on."

"Take Sherry out of the equation since she was abducted somewhere else, on another continent, for now. If we just think about Moira and Claire, it could be a strike against Terra Save, since that's two of their members, or against us, Claire being one of the Founders and Moira being your daughter," Chris says logically. Barry nods slowly.

"Yeah. And putting Birkin back into the equation, what does that tell us?"

Chris has a very dangerous look on his face. "There is a lot of them, they have information and means to locate three people, one being a federal agent, and two being in an entirely different country then the one. They went out of their way to pick these specific targets. Why?"

Barry lets out a long winded breath, shaking his head slowly. "I'm not sure. There is too many and too few connections."

Chris slumps in his seat a bit, rubbing his face tiredly. "I couldn't agree more with you, Barry. I really couldn't. I wonder if it's maybe-" Chris is cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the number, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. He doesn't recognize the number and hits reject before laying it onto the table and continuing, "As I was saying, I wonder if it has something to do with Umbrella in general. Sherry, Claire, Moira, they've all had direct contact with Umbrella somehow. Claire was in S.T.A.R.S, Moira's dad is you, who was in S.T.A.R.S and Sherry's dad was William Birkin a chief scientist and executive in Umbrella."

Barry nods slowly. "That's true..."

Chris's phone rings again, the light turning on is the only thing that notifies him. It's too loud in the bar that Barry and Chris met at. It was probably smarter on Barry's part to tell him the news here, that way he can't freak out and throw a fit in his anger. It's the same number as before.

"Do you know the number?" Barry asks, glancing down at the phone curiously. Chris stares at it for a moment before picking up and his phone and standing.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to step outside where it's quieter," Chris says, weaving through the tables before stepping outside into the warm night air. He answers the phone and puts it to his ear, listening to the door close behind him before stepping to the side and leaning against the building. "Redfield."

There is a moment of silence on the other end. Just as Chris was about to hang up, there is a weird beeping noise and then, "Captain? It's Piers."

Chris's heart jumps and his entire body goes rigid, eyes wide. "What?"

"Piers," Piers says again, slowly, as if uncertain. "Piers Nivans. We... we're in Alpha Team together."

"You're alive?" Chris asks, shaking his head. "How...? How is that even possible? Where are you? What's going on?"

"Look..." Piers says slowly, "I know, after what happened, that you've been a bit... out of it," he says delicately, "but we need you back in the game, Captain. I know it'll be rough, but we can't do this without you. Please... everyone is looking for you. Don't disappear on us again."

"Wh... what?" Chris says, leaning away from the building and looking around, suddenly feeling as if he's being watched. "Is that really you, Piers? No, that can't be. I saw you die. Who is this? What do you want?"

"We want you, Captain Redfield," Piers says. "We need you."

There is an exploding pain in the back of his head that drops him to his knees with a grunt of pain, head spinning. He tries to climb back to his feet when another solid hit to the back of the head knocks him out cold this time.

The last thing he hears, is Barry, calling out his name.

Jake takes a bite out of his apple, savoring the sweetness of it. It's ripe and juicy as he chews, glacial blue eyes, something given to him by his father, scan the deserted lands around him. One doesn't see much of people these days with the constant BOW attacks. They tent to spend as little time outside as they possibly can, less chance of dying that way.

Jake takes another bite of the apple in his right hand. In his left, is his cell phone, a strange cube he stole from the mansion Neo-Umbrella kept them in for six-damned-months. That was a real pain in his ass.

He looks down at the phone in his hand, Sherry hadn't texted him back in hours. She's usually pretty quick with things like that. Even though it should be night time where she is, she usually says goodnight, and even sometimes continues to text him through the night. Not that he minded if she just went to bed, he was just bored. That's all. Simple boredom.

Contrary to popular belief, Jake Muller didn't have many friends. Or any. No, Sherry was... well, she was something. They didn't know each other long, but there was... something between them. They knew each other for almost a year now, six months of that was spent in the same general vicinity, but no such luck on talking with one another, so it doesn't really count. But, there was something irrefutable between them. Jake knew it. Sherry had to of known it. They knew it was there, just... not what it was.

Just thinking about it made Jake scratch at his throat uncomfortably. The relationship he has with Sherry is a strange one. He's not sure he knows how to be able to accurately explain what it is. Just thinking about it makes him uncomfortable. He's never really been one to over analyze things like this. He's been on his own for so long, it's strange to have someone else to have occupy his mind.

Not... not that Sherry occupies his mind or anything.

Jake clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, wiping away a bit of the sweat accumulating on his forehead. Damn it's hot out here.

Jake's phone beeps, pulling his attention down to it. He turns it on and sees it's a message from Sherry. He stares at the co-ordinates in confusion, not understanding what Sherry was trying to say, before he got a second message from her. This time it was a picture. It was of Sherry, tied to a chair with a newspaper on her lap. She was unconscious with her chin toward her chest. But there was no mistaking that mop of blond hair. Or the red blood that stains her temple.

Just seeing it makes Jake's blood boil as he jumps to his feet. He quickly looks up the location, practically hearing Sherry in his ear, begging him to not come. That it wasn't worth it. She wasn't worth it. But he was going to go anyway.

Jake didn't have a lot of people in his life that he gave a shit about, but Sherry Birkin was one of them and no one was going to hurt her without getting the hurt of a lifetime from him as repayment. He climbs onto his motorcycle, slips on his black shades and maps the location, quickly memorizing everything around it for indicators, before he heads out, a deep frown on his lips.