Prologue

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"SHIT. SHIT!"

"WHAT THE FUCK."

"RUN!"

The screams raked along my spine, digging through each nerve and tendon with cold talons until static flared and the recording went quiet.

I stared down at the gruesome photos spread across the table in front of me. Rooms practically painted with blood, dozens of zombified corpses, both civilian and not, and soldiers chopped into pieces like they'd just been through a fucking cheese grater.

"Jesus," I mumbled, brushing my fingers across the horrific images.

"The team is still collecting samples, but it definitely looks like something new."

I looked up at Isaac. The glow from the monitors around us made his normally honey brown eyes look dark, highlighting the stress lines forming on his brow. He wasn't a stranger to horrific intel from the field, but the images in front of us even made me queasy.

"Do we have an ETA on when he's back?"

"Any minute now," He answered, glancing down at the open laptop in front of him, his mouth forming a thin line.

I sighed, rising from my seat to step toward the wall of windows to escape the snapshots spread across my coffee table. My office overlooked the main reconnaissance arboretum, where field support agents and analysts worked diligently. The chatter radiating through the glass was strained and chipped as they stared into their monitors, receiving new information to add to what little we knew so far. The tension in the room was a living band of lightning.

"Is he okay?" Isaac asked after a few silent moments. I hadn't spoken to him, but I already knew the answer.

"No, I'm sure he's not."

Chris Redfield, the last man left standing from the raid on Glenn Arias' hideout. What happened to the rest of the team was captured in the monstrous images scattered along the table at my back.

It wasn't supposed to go down like this.

Each battle seemed to hit Chris harder than the last, every new loss making it just a bit harder to get back up. Even if he won't outright admit it, I can see the shadows of his men fill his gaze when they die, when he can't protect his team and he's left to live with that guilt. I'd been dealing with the same cancerous feelings since Raccoon City.

Heels clicked against the tile outside my office a second before Felicity poked her head through the door. "He's here, on his way up now," she announced, her eyebrows pinching together before she disappeared again.

"Cover those up," I said, pointing to the field images. Isaac quickly gathered the photos and short reports, stowing them away in the green folder.

Heavy footfalls sounded down the hall, and Isaac quickly closed his laptop before rising and placing the folder label-side down on my desk. Chris appeared at my open door a few seconds later. I could already see the ghosts lingering behind those brown eyes as he fully stepped in and took us both in.

"I'll get out of your hair. Catch you later, Mykie," Isaac made for the door, hesitating for a moment before nodding toward Chris as he left the room and closed the door behind himself.

"Want a drink?" I asked, not bothering to wait for the answer as I stepped toward the cabinet behind my desk, decorated with bottles filled with dark and clear liquids. I snagged the aged whiskey from the back and two short glasses.

He didn't speak as he slumped down in one of the cushy chairs at the head of the desk, the leather sighing beneath him. Neither of us spoke as I poured him a glass and pushed it toward him. He took it, tipping it back in one smooth gulp as I lowered into my seat with my own glass.

I waited, sipping the liquor as I waited for him to speak first.

"They got her–them...," Chris said, finally meeting my gaze. I didn't need to ask who he was referencing–I'd seen the photos of Kathy and her son Zack. She and her son had both been turned, used by Arias to lure us in and torment us for being a step behind.

I could try to ease his pain, tell him that she knew the risks and understood undercover surveillance was dangerous work, but I know better than to try to soften their deaths for him right now.

"I know," I said, pouring him a second glass, the liquid glugging against the sides of the bottle. He tipped back the second glass. There were a few beats of long silence where the only sound was the chatter from the staging area beneath.

"I can't keep...," His voice dropped, like he couldn't bring himself to talk about the death blooming around him.

I reached across the desk, my hand resting on top of his and drawing his attention to me.

"We're gonna get that son of a bitch," I whispered, holding Chris' gaze in silent promise.


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Welcome to book 4--omg. We're something like 300,000 words into this thing!

I hope you all enjoy this next work. It may take me longer to publish, because I GOT INTO PA SCHOOL! More than 900 applications submitted and I'm one of 30 students. It's gonna be long and challenging but I promise I am committed to this piece. I will NOT leave it hanging.

Thanks to all who read this. Sometimes It can be disheartening when I see X reader fics that blow past me in views because some people just cant seem to get behind X OC stuff (even if the quality is sometimes BETTER) but I can't thank you guys enough for always commenting and liking these parts. You inspire me to keep at it and push me to try and turn out the best chapters possible! My sister and I read every comment :)

Enjoy~

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