Red, White, and Blue

He'd fought under the red and white, and now was fighting under the blue and white. Did that mean he'd fought under the red, white, and blue? He didn't know. Maybe, since over twenty years ago he'd fought on US soil, but it wasn't as if that was the only country with those colours in its flag. And, come to think of it, he-

"Hey."

...come to think of it, he was drifting. So he looked at the other trooper beside him. The man's helmet was off, and a cigarette was in his hands.

"Got a light?" the trooper asked.

He frowned. "You've got cigarettes, but no lighter?"

"Blow me."

He sighed, reached into one of the many pockets covering his body, and pulled out a small oil lighter. "Here. Just give it back when you're done."

"What, sentimental value or something?"

Carlos Oliveira looked away. "Yes," he murmured.

What his fellow trooper thought about that little nugget of information, he couldn't tell. Right now, he didn't care. It was freezing, the thermals weren't doing their job correctly, and here, out in the wastelands of Edonia, danger could come at them from any angle. Alpha Team was closing on the target, Bravo Team was overlooking the village the target was in. From here, it looked peaceful - smoke coming from chimneys, snow on the roofs, and a majestic castle out in the distance. Winter had come, and with it, death. And with death, like maggots to a corpse, had come Blue Umbrella. With Blue Umbrella came recruits from all walks of life, ranging from those who genuinely wanted to make the world safe from B.O.W.'s, to those who were willing to sell their skills to the highest bidder.

"Here," the trooper said, handing back the lighter.

Carlos took it. "Thanks."

The man frowned. "You going to tell me about it?"

Carlos looked away. "No."

"Oh sure. Okay. Fine." The man looked back at Bravo Team, most of them huddled down. Most of them had their helmets on, all of them looked cold. One of them was looking at a picture. Vaughn, his name was. Bravo Team's leader, at least for today. Blue Umbrella did a lot of outsourcing, so men and women tended to come and go. Over the last few years, they'd started taking on more permanent staff, but-

"You really not going to tell me about the lighter?"

Carlos looked at the man again. "Like I said. Sentimental."

"Yeah. Sure."

Carlos could tell where this was going. Soldiers got bored. And soldiers who got bored could sometimes alleviate their boredom through a pissing contest. He'd seen it in the guerilla armies he'd fought with in South America, he'd seen it in the UBCS, and he was seeing it now.

"Oliveira," the trooper said. "That's Spanish, isn't it?"

"Portuguese."

"Oh. Okay. So you're from Portugal?"

Carlos remained silent.

"Angola?"

Carlos remained silent.

"Argentina?"

Fucking dumbass.

"Or you from-"

"Smith, sit down," Vaughn said.

Carlos was glad that the sergeant had intervened. For Smith's sake.

"Yeah. Okay sir. Just trying to work on team communication."

Carlos saw that Vaughn had got to his feet. Smith, for his part, gave the former merc a look, before heading over to join the rest of the team. He dared hope that would be the end of it, but the sergeant, looking at him with his helmet's visor up, told him without saying a word that it wasn't.

"You know, you could work on your comm. skills."

Carlos looked back at the village. "I know how to work a radio."

"That's not what I mean."

"Yeah, I know." Carlos looked back at him. "But here to do a job. Not chit-chat."

"Odd, considering your profile."

Carlos felt a chill run down his spine, and it wasn't because of the wind.

"I mean, Blue Umbrella has access to UBCS personnel files. I mean, it's weird enough that the last surviving member of the UBCS comes back to work for the people who screwed him over, but from what I read, your psyche profile listed you as-"

"You have access to my profile?" Carlos whispered.

Vaughn fell silent, before murmuring, "it's within my purview to know the people under my command."

Carlos clenched a fist. He couldn't contest the point, but...

"Anyway, you're right. We're here to do a job. Sooner we do it, sooner I…we, get home."

He fingered something in one of those pockets. Carlos didn't have to guess what. As for what Vaughn guessed about him, he didn't particularly care.

A lot of the time, he didn't know why he was here. It felt like he'd been fighting his entire life. Living in the favelas of Rio had been hard enough. Having indigenous blood in him veins made it even harder. He'd laughed, he'd smirked, he'd flirted, and he'd done all of that while having his nose broken, or breaking the noses of the other dregs of society. After that, he'd fought in insurgency movements. After that, the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service. After that, the Brazilian Army, before moving onto the Mexican Federal Police. And finally, in 2017, Blue Umbrella. A chance to shoot at things that weren't human. To kill things that wouldn't leave mothers wailing and children screaming. A chance to fight in a war that had an end goal, and wasn't some constant cycle of violence. All his life, one battle or another. And he knew, even as much as he hated to admit it, that it had changed him.

Even now, he thought about her. Entertained what might have happened if things had gone slightly differently. If-

"Alpha Team here."

He sprung to his feet, as the transmission came in over the radio. So did half of Bravo Team, the ones without them fiddling for their helmets, the ones with them standing or sitting still. He was no exception, putting his own helmet on to listen in as Vaughn began talking.

"Bravo Leader, go ahead."

"Be advised, we're closing in on the target."

"Acknowledged. What's the situation down there?"

"Village is quiet. House is quiet."

Vaughn paused, before murmuring, "lethal force is still authorized?"

"Of course. It's a hit mission."

Carlos winced. He knew that. Didn't make it any easier. There couldn't be any E-types left in the world. If Target A and Target B had produced Target C, then as regretful as it was, C had to be eliminated before it started acting like a D or E series. Because while he hadn't been in Louisiana when that shit went down, he'd read the reports.

"Acknowledged," Vaughn murmured. "Bravo Team out."

The radio went silent, and no-one said anything. No-one had to. All of them had kills to their names. All of those kills were bio-weapons, or at worst, people who'd succumbed to whatever kind of shit madmen and sociopaths had cooked up. But considering what was about to go down in that village...

Carlos took off his helmet again, and uttered a prayer in Portuguese. He didn't believe in God, or gods, or anything like that, and he didn't even think in his native language anymore. But it took him back. He'd spoken it as a child. Today, another child was about to die. He'd failed to save anyone in Raccoon City except a person who'd saved him as well. He'd failed to save anyone in Brazil, or in Mexico, as the fighting between the government and cartels continued their dance of death. Today, he couldn't help but feel he was failing that child as well.

"You okay?"

He looked up and frowned. It was Smith. Sounding less like an asshole, but still, Smith.

"Are you okay?" the man asked.

"The fuck you care?"

He frowned. "Just being friendly."

"Course you are."

Smith didn't say anything. Not at first at least. But his gaze lingered on Carlos's chest, and for a moment, the merc was reminded of certain people in the favelas. People who'd have their fun with certain other people that were usually younger, and usually the opposite gender. People that he'd fought against himself as best a child could. Smith, he hoped, wasn't one of those people.

"So what is with the lighter anyway?"

He wasn't one of those people, but he was one of those people, Carlos reflected.

"I mean, you don't have to say, but-"

"Someone gave it to me."

"Someone," Smith repeated. "What, like a gift?"

Carlos opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Truth was, he had no idea. Jill had picked up so much stuff by the time they got out of Raccoon City. The lighter hadn't even been hers, it was just a doohickey she'd picked up from some bar when the city went nova. But since, when they'd parted, all the other stuff was guns and ammo, it made for the best gift she could have given at the time. So in that sense...

"Yeah," Carlos murmured. "Like that."

Smith remained silent, before nodding, and heading back to the rest of the team. Fitting, all things considered. When the lighter had exchanged hands, few words had been spoken then, and none of them free of awkwardness.

It was stupid, and he knew it. There was no shortage of females in the world, and no shortage of them who were willing to show him how female they were. And at the time, he could have gone with her. Cross the pond to do to Umbrella to what they'd done to over 100,000 people. Only it was clear then, without much being said, that they had different priorities. She was doing this not just for the people of Raccoon City, but her friends. For the surviving members of S.T.A.R.S. One above all, given the way she talked about him, and it wasn't Mister Burton. Over twenty years, and he could still remember her. Over twenty years, and he doubted she even remembered him. He looked Vaughn, thinking of the photo he'd been carrying, and wondered who it was. Wife? Child? Other? Was he holding onto unrequited love, or, more likely, was he a well-balanced individual who didn't think of pretty girls known over the course of about a week? Granted, not that Blue Umbrella was overflowing with well-balanced individuals, but-

"Alpha Team," came the radio. "Target C is terminated."

Carlos winced. Case in fucking point.

"Bravo Team, acknowledged," Vaughn said. "Status of other targets?"

"Target B is incapacitated. Target A is in custody."

"Think he'll do the job?"

"I have ways."

Vaughn scoffed. "You really are a piece of work, Redfield."

Carlos's eyes widened. Redfield?

"Acknowledged. Alpha Team, out."

Carlos walked over to Vaughn. "Did you just say Redfield?"

Vaughn gave him a look, his eyes narrow behind his helmet, visor up and all. "Chris Redfield, yeah? Alpha Team's leader."

Redfield. The name hit Carlos like a bullet through the chest. Chris Redfield.

"What, you know him?"

"I-"

"You know him?" asked another trooper - Walton, if Carlos remembered her name correctly. "The Chris Redfield? Like, Kijuju, Lanshiang, Dulvey, Raccoon City Redfield?"

Smith snorted. "What, like, before he was cool?"

"I-"

"Don't forget the Queen Zenobia," added another trooper.

"And Antarctica," added a fourth.

"And-"

"You know, for people who work for Umbrella, you're pretty swell about the guy who brought it down," Carlos murmured.

All of Bravo Team fell silent.

"I mean, just saying, if he's with Alpha Team, and we're with Bravo Team, well, odds aren't exactly in our favour, are they?"

Someone mentioned something about hungry games. He didn't hear. He didn't care. But Vaughn was still team leader, and even if he had more experience in fighting B.O.W.s than all these assholes combined, he knew he had to answer to him.

"Anything you want to add, Oliveira?"

Carlos, very slowly, very deliberately, murmured, "no. Nothing at all. Just..." He looked back at the village. "Let's just say that I imagine that Target A is going to be quite aggrieved over losing a loved one."

Vaughn patted him on the shoulder. "I know."

"Really? You know what it's like to lose someone you love?"

Vaughn didn't say anything. Carlos, his cheeks flushed, pulled his visor down. "Anyway, nothing more to add sir. Good to go sir. Ready to shoot sir"

Vaughn pulled his own visor down. "Good man."

Good man. The words hung there in the air. Like a ghost on the wind, unable to be swatted away, and there to taunt him.

Good man. Having fought all his life...

When had he ever been good?