No Strings Attached || Chris Redfield

The Stakes

The small-bore rifle rattled and kicked as it fired; its 22 LR bullet pierced a target sheet near the center, but Céline was unimpressed. Her score was short of her expectations. She needed more practice and an environment to shoot in that was less strenuous.

There were eyes on her, watching her every move.

Céline turned on the safety and sat the rifle and the earmuffs down on the table in front of her, returning to the facility, a private gun range in Tennessee. She was more or less alone but aware of the cameras on her; the executives in the Connections were always watching.

Buying a bottle of water from a vending machine, she heard her ringtone go off – she set her phone to vibrate in case she missed the call – and retrieved the phone from her back pocket, glancing at the screen.

It read: Unknown Number.

Céline answered the call.

"Miss Durant, have a seat. We need to have a word," the caller ordered.

The voice was protected by a modulator, making it sound both masculine and feminine to her.

As it always is, she thought, sitting at a table in the breakroom.

"You have my attention," Céline declared.

The line cracked, then the voice began to explain.

"We have a particular job we need for you to complete. It's of utter importance."

As if she could decline.

"Another human B.O.W. is running feral, I assume," Céline remarked.

The voice hummed. "Yes. D-001, otherwise known as Dahlia. I am sure you heard about her predecessor, E-001, the bioweapon terminated in Louisiana last October. D-001 is not as unique but just as deadly as her."

"And the Connections wants her terminated?"

Why else would an executive call her? She was a trained member of the H.C.F., not an agent. It was her job to terminated failed experiments, not collect samples.

"That is correct," the voice answered back. "D-001 was located in Loclare, England two weeks ago when she attracted the attention of the BSAA's European branch. You are to go there and terminate her."

Céline tapped her finger in annoyance. How was she supposed to do that? If the BSAA was involved, the area was most likely quarantined to keep the Mold from spreading. She was one person against hundreds of trained soldiers, like herself. It was a suicide mission.

"Am I expected to sneak in?"

The line cracked again.

"Mission details will be provided during transit to the quarantined area," the voice answered back. "Be at the Memphis International Airport at 0600 hours."

Céline sighed. "Understood."

"And Miss Durant," the voice called, stopping her before she ended the call. "Keep in mind what is at stake should you fail."

The line went silent.

Céline slammed her phone onto the table in annoyance, but a ring informed her of a private message. She checked it, seeing a picture of her sister Fae in her scrubs in front of VUMC in Nashville. Tears filled her eyes.

How could she forget? Fae's life was at stake.