No Strings Attached || Chris Redfield

Game On

The October sun had not yet risen over Memphis as Céline boarded a business jet heading towards the terminal in Paisley, Scotland; the closest airport to the Loclare region that the BSAA could manage since the European branch put up a 2.90 square mile quarantine zone around Ivesfield, a town in Nesshal county.

The ride was eight hours across the Atlantic, then an additional three by vehicle to the town in England; it would be a long and tedious ride, but she didn't mind the quiet.

In the meantime, once the jet was in the air, Céline unclasped her seatbelt and stood to freshen up in the bathroom, then sat at the desk closest to the cockpit where a laptop was waiting for her; a flash drive was connected to the USB port on the side. Finding the only file on the flash drive, she began to familiarize herself with the details of the mission.

Her employers had concocted an exciting story.

She was ordered to pose as an elite of the BSAA, a trained soldier with years of experience as a combat medic – not entirely a lie – and stop the biological hazard from infecting the populace of Nesshal county and the nearby regions.

But her actual task was to locate and destroy the D-001 bioweapon Dahlia. The rest was history. Céline knew the basics. Her cover story was always the same; she was devoted to the cause; someone who wanted to save humanity, whatever lie would sell.

Blah-blah-blah.

Céline disconnected the flash drive from the USB port and shoved it into her pocket, then returned to her seat. There was nothing more to do but rest. She adjusted her chair back and sighed.

Taking out her private phone, Céline went to her photo gallery and tapped on a picture of her sister the afternoon she got her diploma, earning her nursing license. She looked proud.

Céline laughed at the caption Fae wrote above the picture. Fucking owned it, it read. Her sister deserved to be happy. She worked her ass off to become someone she was proud of, and no one was going to take that away from her, not Céline and not the Connections.

I have to succeed for her.

Céline put away her phone and rested her eyes. She needed sleep even though she wasn't tired. There was much for her to do and no room for blunders.

In and out for several hours, Céline spent the majority of the plane ride staring out the window or sleeping, eating energy bars from her bug-out bag to keep her satiated.

Landing in Paisley around noon, she disembarked from the jet and made her way to the drop-off area where a middle-aged woman holding a sign with her name on it stood waiting. Céline approached her and faked a smile. The woman wore a green vest and light gray combat fatigues with a BSAA patch on the sleeve, a standard uniform for a member of the SOU. Her patch showed that she was from the European branch.

"Good afternoon," she greeted as she extended her hand. "I'm Hannah Stephenson."

She had a Geordie accent, a dialect heard in Newcastle.

Céline shook her hand and adequately introduced herself.

"It's a long drive," Hannah mentioned. "We should move along."

Céline agreed with a nod and shouldered her BOB, following Hannah from the terminal to the parking lot where a beige Humvee was setting. She tossed her bag into the back and got into the front seat, waiting for Hannah to start the jeep, then sat quietly as she drove from the terminal onto Stobcross Street.

"I have to admit," she said with a grin. "I am happy to have another female on the team."

Céline puckered a brow. "Are you a part of the Alpha unit?"

"I am. As one of the best damn snipers in the European branch, I ought to be," Hannah revealed.

She glanced at Céline a second, then returned her attention to the road.

"And you? Let me guess. A chemist?"

A trained liar.

"I'm a combat medic, but I'm also a damn good sharpshooter," admitted.

Hannah hummed. "Good old Harrison has some competition. He's part of the unit too. He and I are from Newcastle, and I told him there had to be something unique about ya if the big shots were flying you from America."

"I'm not unique," Céline argued. "Just lucky to be here. This means a lot to me."

Hannah grinned. "I know the feeling. And regardless of your doubt, having another sharpshooter in the unit puts me at ease."

Céline sighed. She hated this part, the connections she made. Remaining silent, she stared out the window as Hannah drove them onto the entrance ramp towards Edinburgh.

For the next two hours, Hannah and Céline listened to the radio, speaking little to one another. It was around three in the afternoon when they arrived in Ivesfield. From the window, Céline could see the ocean; she could smell the soothing scent wafting around in the dry October air.

She observed as Hannah drove the Humvee to a checkpoint on the Belrose Bridge and spoke to a BSAA soldier armed with a SIG 556 series rifle. He glanced at Céline in interest and motioned for his partner to remove the sawhorse from the road, allowing them into the quarantine zone.

"Is there only one entrance? I expected more guards."

Hannah hummed in disapproval. "There are three and two rivers, the Everhill and the Millmore, that merge into the sea. Two soldiers guard the checkpoints, monitoring what comes into the zone. It's not much, but the Eastern branch has been spread thin since 2009."

She understood.

"How many soldiers from each branch were deployed?"

"Five from Europe, two from North America, two from Oceania, and three from West Africa. The twelve of us are split into a six-cell unit; Alpha and Bravo, including a squad leader," Hannah explained.

The BSAA was serious nowadays. Perhaps the chaos of the situation made it easy for the Connections to insert Céline into the BSAA ranks without them knowing.

Hannah drove the jeep into the square and parked in front of the Ivesfield Theatre, a building in the shape of a fourteen-sided polygon.

Céline got out and retrieved her bag from the back, then glanced down Bay Street. Its cobbled surface fell into a slope and reached the coast where the bay opened up, filled with boats of many sizes. It was a gorgeous sight.

"Durant," Hannah called, motioning for her to follow. "Captain will want to meet you."

Oh yes, the unit captain.

Céline followed her into the theatre to the main hall where the BSAA had set up a makeshift base. Laptops and radio communication devices were placed on tables around the room as soldiers marched like ants, performing their duties. She trailed behind Hannah to the corner of the room where a man stood, observing a map of the town. On his arm, Céline noticed a patch, indicating that he belonged to the North American branch.

"Captain, sir."

The man turned upon hearing his title. His tired eyes glanced at the two before resting on Hannah.

"Return to your duties," he ordered.

She agreed and strode from the room.

"My name is Chris Redfield," he mentioned as he extended his hand.

Céline took it and introduced herself.

"It is a pleasure, sir. I look forward to working with you," she added.

Chris nodded in agreement. "Likewise. Headquarters has said some good things about you. I heard you're a hell of a shot."

Her bosses went all out to impress Chris. Perhaps he was not a trusting man.

"I don't disappoint," Céline stated.

She wasn't sure if he was pleased, but he seemed content.

"I plan to start the briefing in 1700 hours," Chris mentioned. "Suit up and get ready."

Good thing she already rested.

"Yes, sir."

Game on.