Disclaimer: I do not own Capcom, or their wonderful characters, storyline, games, etc. I just use them for my warped wants and needs. Thanks: I want to thank, first and foremost, my friends. Secondly, I want to thank Joss Whedon. After that, I think I'll thank Paul W.S. Anderson for bringing me Mortal Kombat ... and Resident Evil: The Movie. Oh, lastly, my hero, mentor and friend Johnny. Without Johnny, I am not sure where I would be today. Thank you Johnny.
Author's Note: This story really doesn't follow a time line or the scheme of the games, but it's rather just something wonderful I thought about one night while hopped up on my oxycodone (the one good thing about having wisdom teeth wrenched from your skull). Please R & R!!! Oh, btw, this is a strictly C/L. There will be NO mention of the tramp Ada or Steve. I hope they're both happy dead. And if you say Ada Wong really slow, it's hilarious!! Try it! Get a hold of me!I'd love to hear from other fanatics!!
"Leon, I'm begging you, don't do this."
"I don't have a choice Claire. It's my job."
"I know but I've got a bad feeling. Just don't go."
"Can't or won't?"
"Christ, Claire, we always go through this...."
"Because I worry about you!"
"I don't have time for this right now. I'll call you when my plane gets in."
"If you love me, don't go."
The memory ended violently, an explosion jolting Claire Redfield back to reality. She sat straight up in her makeshift bed, sweat glistening on her forehead. Her breathing was rapid and terror nestled itself in her stomach. Instinctively she reached for the Browning pistol at her side and clutched it with trembling hands. She calmed slowly, her breath slowing down. The damp coolness of the storage room she'd holed up in helped to erase the perspiration from her brow. Yet her stomach still turned uneasily.
Leon. Leon S. Kennedy.
It was because of him that Claire was squatting in an abandoned military facility, dirty and exhausted. He'd taken a job investigating bizarre murders in South America. He'd told Claire that he'd phone when he arrived. He'd said that there was nothing to fear. He'd promised to return to her. He'd lied.
There had been no phone call. Claire was still waiting for it; she'd been waiting for six months. Two of those six she'd spent wandering different countries south of the North American border in a desperate attempt to locate him. Her newest lead had led her here, to the middle of the Brazilian jungle. She'd been told that there was a place where men entered but never left, with faceless screams penetrating the night only to be heard by local village folk. So far, all Redfield had encountered was a big garage. A goddamned, fucking garage.
Chris had told her this would happen. Although she hated to admit it, her older brother was proving to be right. He'd told her that it was best to let Leon's current employer - the Central Intelligence Agency - deal with it. How wonderfully they'd handled it so far. Every day it was the same, inane response: We're working on it.
Another explosion fractured the silence and Claire edged to the small window near the middle of the wall. Redfield peered over the edge to see that her explosions were actually cracks of lightening. Moments later, rain began to pour down in sheets. It oddly reflected her mood. Despairing. Claire sat down against the cold wall, sighing heavily still grasping the Browning. Feeling defeated, she placed her free palm against the concrete wall.
"Dammit, Kennedy, where are you?"
That's all for now! Chapter 2 will be posted soon, perhaps within the evening or so. Gotta finish typing it up. Hope everyone enjoyed!! Keep watching for posts! TJ