Chapter 1

December 23nd, 2012

Republic of Edonia, Eastern Europe

Darkness. That was all there was in the city of Edonia. The night sky was filled with small, dull stars, and the moon was nowhere in sight. No wind blew, no street lights were on, and no humans filled the streets. However, the sound of shuffling and moaning could be heard throughout the entire city. Edonia was infested, but not in the way any citizen would ask for.

Zombies roamed the streets, shuffling aimlessly, without a destination in their dead minds. Some zombies carried weapons with them, though none knew how to use them properly. B.O.W's knocked away the zombies, hoping to find their next meal, but to no avail. The city of Edonia was on lockdown, and only the reckless walked the streets, either out of bravery or stupidity, or both. Citizens looked out at the horde growing larger and closer to their location- the church. Children whimpered in the corners, and parents tried to keep them calm, but everyone knew what was going to happen. They were all going to die.

A shot rang out into the moaning night. The horde of undead stopped and turned towards the sound. They waited.

Another shot. It was heading away from the church. The horde followed it obediently, stumbling over each other to reach the target. Shots continued to fire throughout the city, leading the horde to the main square of town. The shots ceased to fire. The horde looked around, the thought of food filling their dead eyes. A zombie woman in the middle of the horde took a step forward. A click sounded. The horde turned towards it, but with no reward. The bomb had been activated. Any zombie within the square was obliterated to nothing but ash. The streets had been cleared out completely.

The citizens came out of the church cheering. They made their way to the main square, but saw no one that they could thank. However, that didn't mean that the vigilante wasn't watching them. On top of one of the gray apartment buildings was a young woman watching in satisfaction. Her sapphire blue eyes shone in the darkness as she watched over the crowd. Her long, raven black hair was pulled back into a loose braid that was thrown over her shoulder. Around her neck was a sapphire pendant hanging loosely on a silver chain. She wore a large leather jacket that had a red and yellow patch with a spider on it- the mark of a mercenary.

She stood up, her sniper gun in hand, and walked away from the crowd, towards the hatch on the roof. She was tired from the long days work, and all she wanted to do was go home and relax. Being a seventeen year old mercenary, she became exhausted easily during the night. She traded her sniper for the handgun in her holster that rested on her hip.

She opened the hatch carefully, gun drawn, and looked around. Nothing stirred, though that did not make her feel relaxed. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground and listened intently. Nothing could be heard except her own breathing, which was almost silent. Still hesitant, she kept her gun out, then began walking to one of the exits. Nothing stopped her from reaching the flight of stairs, which felt strange to her. She didn't trust the situation, not even for a second.

She reached the top of the stairs and stopped, listening once more. Again, nothing made a sound, but the sense of uneasiness filled her. Why? She stayed like that for a good minute, waiting for something to happen. She wished something would make a noise, alerting her of the unknown presence stalking her, but there was only her and the silence in the room. Hesitantly, she turned back to the stairs and descended.

She felt it before it registered in her brain. A hand pushing her forward, and she stumbled and fell. Quickly, she twisted her body and covered her head, saving her from serious injuries. Once on a platform, she got up and aimed her gun at the threat. The sight in front of her confused her. It was a zombie, but it held a gun properly and was aiming it. The patch of a mercenary was visible on its coat, and it seemed to be speaking Russian. The girl hesitated a second too long. The zombie-human shot at her, catching her leg. She fell in pain, but did not waste the time thinking about it. She aimed and fired at the zombie, hitting it in the shoulder. The zombie screamed in pain, stumbling backwards. The girl shot once again, this time in the head. The zombie fell dead, bursting into flames. The girl sat there for a moment to take everything in, then remembered that she was bleeding. Wasting no time, she rolled up her pant leg and examined the damage. There were two holes on both sides of her leg, cleanly lined up. She sighed in relief, took off her jacket, ripped up a good amount of her black tank top to make a bandage, and patched herself up the best she could. Once the bandage was secured, she put her jacket back on and zipped it up halfway, then proceeded to stand.

The sound of gun being aimed at her rang loud in her ears. The girl looked up, and saw a male. A human male. He was tall, with brown hair, light brown eyes, and a stern look on his face. He wore a light beige jacket and a white undershirt, and a pair of black jeans. The girl looked at the patch on his left shoulder.

BSAA.

" Who are you?" she asked him. He glared at her, saying nothing, and it took her a moment to realize why. Her patch.

" Look, buddy," she began, holding up her hands. " I just got done dealing with a zombie-human thing, and I'm injured. I'm no threat. I just wanna go home and get the proper medical care my leg needs and go to bed. That's it. So, could you please not aim your gun at me and just help me get home or just lead me to the street? That's all I want."

" All you want, huh?" the man replied sarcastically. His voice was deep, yet childish. It suited him well.

" Yea, pretty much," the girl replied. " That and a million dollars, but I will never get that. However, I know I can go home and sleep in a warm, cozy bed, unless you plan to kill me right here right now."

The man didn't answer. His gun was still aimed at her, so she made no movement to walk away. However, her leg, she noticed, was becoming more painful by the minute. She gritted her teeth and tried to stay standing, but couldn't. Her hands still in the air, she began backing up to the wall. The man straightened his aim on her, but did not shoot.

" I need to sit down," she told him. Her back hit the wall, and she slid down until she hit the ground. The pain lessened, but not by much. She had lost more blood than she thought, for her head was starting to spin. She heard the man curse and run towards her, gun still aimed at her. Checking the surroundings and being satisfied with the results, the man knelt in front of her and examined her leg. He gently rolled up the pant leg and took a look at the crude handiwork of the girl. Dissatisfied, he pulled out a knife and cut the bandage off. Blood began to ooze out of the wound quicker than before, and it was all the girl could do to not fall asleep. The man wasted no time pulling out a small first aid kit form inside his jacket, and he got to work patching her up.

" What's your name?" he asked the girl. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again and gritted her teeth, for the man had poured hydrogen peroxide onto the wound. She took a few deep breaths before answering his question.

" Cecile."

" Last name," the man demanded.

" That's none of your business," she retorted.

" It's my job to ask these questions," he replied. " Especially since I'm helping a mercenary."

" So then, don't help me," she commented, then immediately regretted it. The man snickered and stood up, Cecile's wound still unattended to.

" If that's the way it's going to be, then I guess I'll just leave," he told her.

It was instinct. She shrugged her shoulders and left her face expressionless. The man shrugged back and walked away, gun in hand. Cecile saw that he left the first aid kit, and she grabbed it quickly. That was when the man realized he left it, and turned around to grab it. Cecile put the kit inside her breast pocket, making sure he saw. He raised one eyebrow at her, and something flashed in his eyes. The hope of a challenge, Cecile realized.

" I need it, if you won't help me," she stated.

" It's the only one I have," he responded. " Those materials can be used on someone more worthy of them."

" You're an asshole," she said. He laughed at her and took a step towards her.

" Am I now?" he questioned, taking another step her way.

" Yes," she answered calmly. " I know your organization. The BSAA is suppose to protect human life and fight bioterrorism, not to play God with human lives. You, it seems, haven't gotten the memo."

As she spoke, his grin weakened, and finally turned into a straight line, making his face expressionless. Cecile stared back with the same expression, waiting for his next move.

The man sighed and walked towards her. Cecile's body tensed instinctively, but she couldn't run. He knelt back down beside her and held out his hand. She reached into her pocket and handed over the first aid kit. The man then began to work on her leg once more.

" Thank you," she said to him. He paused for a split second before nodding and continuing to work. Cecile closed her eyes and let the coolness of the wall on her back lull her to sleep. She didn't dream of anything. All she saw was darkness, and she heard the occasional voice of the man with her.

She didn't know how long she had been sleeping, but when she awoke, the man was gone. Cecile looked at her leg, which was patched up neatly and didn't hurt at all anymore. Carefully, she stood up and tested the durability of her leg. She could put enough pressure to walk home. Grabbing her handgun, she walked down the stairs and left the building, heading to the only place she could call home.

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" I'm back," Cecile called out as she entered a small wooden house. The living room consisted of a small two man couch, a brown leather recliner, a T.V in the far right corner, and a small pet bed for the fat ginger tom laying in it.

" What took you so long?" a man's voice asked. Cecile looked towards the entrance of the kitchen, where a man in his twenties stood glaring at her. He was tall, with red hair in a buzz cut, sharp blue eyes, and a stern look constantly on his face. He had a long scar on his left cheek, but he made it work somehow. He was well-built and lean. He wore an outfit identical to Cecile's, completed with the mercenary patch.

" Sorry. Had to deal with more than the bomb before I could come back," Cecile apologized. The man in front of her rolled his eyes and walked back into the kitchen. Cecile walked to the back of the house and entered the door on the left. She closed the door behind her, and waited a few minutes. Though he acted like it, Jake Muller wasn't a total douchebag that only cared about himself. She knew he would come into her room and make sure that she was okay and nothing bad had happened to her. He was like her older brother, and she was grateful for that.

She waited a good ten minutes. Jake never came and knocked on her door. Unsettled, Cecile opened her door and walked out, making her way to the kitchen. She walked in, and stopped dead. Jake was sitting at the kitchen table with his back to Cecile, so she could see the blade creating cuts into his skin. Instinctively, she ran to him and reached for the knife. She did not expect him to do what he did. He spun quickly out of her reach, the knife now posed at her like she was the enemy. Cecile had never seen him like this. It wasn't like him to cut himself, let alone be so defensive about it.

" Jake, what are you doing?" Cecile asked cautiously. She kept the knife within her vision and look Jake straight in the eyes. Looking away would be dangerous.

" You're always screwing up," he said to her. " You can't do anything right around here, not even show up on time! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT DOES TO ME?! I have to wait for you to return so that way no one gets inside here, and the longer you take, the more job offers I have to turn down! WE ARE LOSING MONEY BECAUSE YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT IN THIS GODDAMN HOUSE! NO WONDER YOU WERE ABANDONED AS A KID!"

Cecile stayed silent, knowing that nothing she said would be helpful to her or the situation. She took a tiny step back, then felt the door jam on her back. She judged how long it would take for her to turn around and run to her room. Not very long, but she would need to distract Jake for a least five seconds. That would give her the time she needed. However, she couldn't think of anything that would distract him enough. She thought of the attic, but she remembered that it was locked. It would be the perfect place for a situation like this. But, once again, there was not enough time to escape Jake's speed.

There was a knock on the door. Both of them turn towards it, waiting. Another came from the door, more persistent this time. Jake put the knife in the sink, grabbed a wet paper towel, then moved towards the door. He glared at Cecile on his way over, and Cecile cowered away from him, this stranger, walking by her. After he made it to the door, Cecile bolted to the attic, making the escape she needed. In the small hallway, she tugged on the long cord hard, and the stairs came down. At the top of the stairs was a small hatch, which was locked. Cecile took out the small key from her pocket and unlocked the door and climbed inside quickly, shutting and locking the hatch behind her. As a backup, she moved a heavy box over the hatch in case Jake decided to come up. She then went to the very back right corner, where was a small bed setup for such an occasion, where she felt threatened or if she needed to hide. She laid on the bed and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come to her.

Insomnia took over instead, and Cecile rolled on to her back and stared at the wooden ceiling. She thought back to Jake's harsh words, and sighed. As much as she wanted to think of a positive thing for herself, she knew that Jake had been telling the truth. She had taken too long, and because of it, they had lost easy money. He was also right about not doing anything right. What other reason could there have been for her mother abandoning her? Cecile couldn't think one back then, and couldn't think of one now. Disappointment took over, surrounding her in a dark aura, making her feel like a true failure of life.

She heard a knock from the attic door. She made no move to go open it, and she closed her eyes once again, and this time, sleep took her away from her personal hell.

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Flames were everywhere, surrounding a small island of rocks. Cecile looked around, searching for any way to escape, but couldn't find one. All she saw was the flames growing larger by the minute, and coming closer to her.

" Cecile!" Someone screamed at her. The voice was so familiar, but she couldn't place it. It was a male's voice, low and gruff, but gentle at the same time. Cecile looked around, but couldn't find the source of the voice. Anger took over her, along with desperation, and Cecile jumped through the flames. As she touched the flames, they all disappeared, leaving her in utter darkness. Cecile stood there, the cold seeping into her skin quickly, and she began to shiver. The voice didn't call out again, making her feel as if she were truly alone. Then, she realized that she was afraid. For all of her life, there was only one thing that she feared the most- being abandoned and left alone.

Shivering now from fear, Cecile began to walk forward in the darkness slowly. She could only hear her own footsteps as she traveled on, making the silence more sinister. She tried her best to remain calm, but the feeling of something terrible about to happen was persistent. No matter how hard she tried, she could not shake that feeling off.

Something in the distance caught her attention. A light, she realized. She began to run to it, hope rising in her chest. The light grew bigger with each step she took, and a few moments later, she had reached the blazing ball of light. She grabbed it, and was instantly tossed into the air. She screamed, but no noise came from her mouth. She felt herself begin to spin and tried to grab something for support. She hit the ground a few seconds later, and she sucked in deep breaths of cold air. She looked around to see where she was, and quickly recognized the town of Edonia. But there was something wrong with it.

It was on fire.

Citizens were running away from the flames and falling buildings as quickly as they could. Zombies were trying to catch up with them, but were too slow and were caught by the fire. Screams echoed all around Cecile, but she wasn't paying attention to that. Her focus was on the man trapped under one of the buildings. It was the guy who had patched her up. She ran to him, dodging screaming people and zombies alike. She made it to him without much difficulty, and she knelt beside him. He looked up, and recognition flooded in his gaze. While she had expected a grateful expression, she was met with disgust and accusation.

" It's all your fault," he told her in a raspy voice. Though she had expected her voice to shake, it didn't when she said,

" I know."

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Cecile sat upright in the small bed in the attic and nearly hit her head on a low hanging wooden beam. She gasped for the air that was missing from her lungs like a dying fish, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. With a few slow, deep breaths, she was able to calm herself down. She then looked over, and met Jake's gaze. Cecile yelped and jumped, successfully hitting her head on that beam she had avoided a moment before.

" Agh!" she cried, rubbing her head. Jake chuckled at the sight.

" What do you want?" Cecile asked him. Jake became serious as he looked at her, and it reminded her of the Jake she had met three years ago, when she had first arrived in Edonia.

" I want to apologize for last night," he began. " I was drunk, and I said a lot of things that I didn't mean. I woke up this morning remembering that I told you that everything was your fault, and that's not true at all. So, I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Cecile stared blankly at him. She didn't know what to think, didn't know what to say. Part of her wanted to forgive him. The other part kept repeating an old man's words- " A drunk man's talk is a sober man's thoughts."

Jake sighed and stood, turning away from her. He walked to the hatch and began to climb down.

" You're forgiven," Cecile whispered, staring at the wall in front of her. Jake stopped his climbing and looked at her, bewilderment in his eyes. After a moment of shock, he climbed back up the ladder and went to her. When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Cecile hugged him back, once again feeling safe with the guy who saved her three years ago.

She felt safe for the first time in a long time.

The little comment in her head sparked something, something deep, something dark, something....

Familiar. Why?

" I'm gonna head out and get some fresh air. Is that okay?" she asked him.

" Yeah, go ahead," he told her. " Just be back before three this afternoon. I have an assignment to attend."

" You got it. I'll be back before then," she promised. " If I'm not, then just go. I should be back a little bit after you leave."

Jake nodded, and the two of them headed downstairs, with Cecile grabbing her handgun off the small wooden table in the living room and heading out the door and walking towards the main square.

Her mind kept focusing on the sentence that crept into her skull, and was sticking there like glue. As far as she could remember, she had never felt safe, not even as a child. How could she, when she had been abandoned by her mother when she needed her protection the most? No one but Jake had truly made her feel safe.

Not true.

Another thought in her head from nowhere. Cecile pondered these messages, not paying attention to anything else around her. She was so lost in thought that she smacked right into someone else, someone built like a rock, for she fell from the force, while the person in front of her remained upright.

" I'm sorry!" she apologized quickly, moving to stand up. The butt of a gun knocked her back down and pinned her there. She looked at the person, and groaned.

" You again?!"

" Are you following me?" the man from the night before asked with sarcasm. Cecile tried to sit up, but the man kept her firmly pinned to the ground.

" What's going on, Piers?" a voice from behind the man asked.

" A wanted insurgent, Captain," the man holding her down replied. Cecile tried to see the other man's face, but Piers was blocking him with his body.

" Let me see," the other man ordered, and Piers moved out of his way, the pressure of the gun lifted off of her chest. Cecile sat up, but made no move to stand. Instead, she looked at the man in front of her. He was huge, but in a good way. He was well built, tall, and had dark brown hair and dark chocolate brown eyes. Though he looked menacing physically, his eyes were gentle as he looked at her. He knelt in front of her and examined her, both her looks and clothing. Cecile almost flinched as his gaze moved to the patch on her shoulder. She looked down, now unable to meet his gaze.

" What is your name?" he asked her kindly. Cecile couldn't answer. She didn't know why, but she couldn't. She felt tears begin to form in the back of her eyes, and she almost felt like she was being scolded for doing something wrong.

" Cecile, Captain," Piers answered for her.

" You've already met this little lady?"

" Yes, Captain."

" Hmm," was all the man said, then placed a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. The tears had formed and were threatening to spill, and she felt both terrified and humiliated. If she were to cry, they might mistaken it for a tactic to escaping them.

" What's the matter?" the man asked gently. Cecile couldn't take it. The tears ran down her face in silent rivers, and she ripped her face away from him and bowed her head, trying to stop herself from shaking. She closed her eyes and took a couple of breaths. She heard Piers step closer, and her body tensed against her will.

The man must have noticed it, for he looked at Piers and spoke to him.

" Did something happen between you two that made her afraid of you, or any member of the BSAA?"

" No, sir," Piers reassured. " I'm the one who patched her up after she encountered a J'avo."

" It's true," Cecile finally spoke. The man nodded, then gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Cecile lifted her head slowly and looked the man in the eyes.

" Who are you?" she asked him.

" My apologies," he said. " My name is Chris Redfield- Captain of the Alpha Team for the BSAA."

" Chris Redfield," Cecile said slowly, letting the name sink in. She chuckled after a moment.

" A little weird, but cool," she said to him.

" What do you mean?" Chris asked.

" We have the same last name."

Dead silence. Chris' face went from comfort to confused to horror to shock in a matter of three seconds. Quickly, he grabbed her shoulders and was instantly in her face. She heard Piers gasp, and the confusion won over the urge to pull away.

" Full name, now," Chris demanded.

" Cecile Elizabeth Redfield." Cecile didn't know why, but she felt obligated to answer him.

" Birthday."

" June 16, 1995. "

" Birthplace."

" Raccoon City, Kansas."

Chris backed up a little to look at her closely. He turned her face to inspect every angle, and the confusion slowly turned to irritation as she waited for an explanation.

" What happened on March 9th of 2009?"

Cecile was about to answer that she didn't know, but something flashed across her sight. An image of fire and rocks, and people. But, as quickly as it came, it left, leaving her unable to speak. Chris let go of her as she looked away, trying to think. His eyes widened, and he grabbed her once again, but in an embrace. Cecile yelped and tried to pull away, but Chris' grip was too strong to break away from.

" What the hell? Let me go and tell me what's going on!" she squealed. Chris let her go instantly and looked at her, bewilderment filling every surface of his eyes. He held out a hand, and Cecile took it, allowing him to help her up. She looked over at Piers, who looked at her with the same shocked expression as Chris. She turned back to Chris and waited for an answer.

" I can't believe it," he said instead. " After three years, you're here. You were suppose to be dead, but you're not. I watched you die, yet here you are. I never thought I would be able to hold you in my arms again."

" What are you talking about?" she asked impatiently. Chris looked at her with the happiest look in his eyes, and something stirred in her mind, like something was trying to fight its way forward. She coaxed it forward, but it slipped away and returned to the abyss of her mind.

" I'm Chris Redfield," he stated. Cecile was about to make a sarcastic remark, but stopped herself when she realized that he wasn't done.

" Your father."