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Rescuee

Prologue: Sleeping Beauty

The room was white, just as white as it had always been. Immaculate walls lined immaculate floors with an immaculate ceiling crowning it. The front of the room was almost exclusively one way glass, so that the girl inside could be watched but could not watch in turn. The occupant was in her teens now, Sherry Birkin, and was the only surviving member of her family. Claire chewed her lip as she followed the routine of trying to reason out a way to get Sherry out of that cell. The teenage girl sobbed quietly into the pillow she had been given, and Claire's heart broke for her. She had heard about the tests Sherry's handlers had inflicted, and immediately tried to begin adoption procedures. Adoption was hard when the adoptee didn't officially exist. So Claire did what she could when she was allowed to visit the girl.

Claire received the okay to enter the room, and pushed the glass door open. Immediately, Sherry knew who had come to visit. She sprung from her prone position on the bed and wrapped her tiny arms around Claire. New bandages wrapped the appendages, no doubt from recent blood draws. Sherry had switched from sobbing into a pillow, to sobbing into Claire's chest. What had these people done to the poor girl, "Sherry," Claire made the younger girl look up at her, "What did they do?"

"I don't know," Sherry sniffled, "something about ovaries."

"Bastards…"

"Claire, when can I leave?"

"I'm trying to get you out, sweetheart. I am—"

Sherry interrupted Claire and Claire was glad for the distraction, "Then can you tell me more about Chris?" Claire would have chuckled had she not been in such a sour mood. She had started telling Sherry stories about Chris when she was fresh out of Raccoon. Claire had resorted to recounting Chris's adventures when she realized just how few classics she knew.

Claire led Sherry to the bed and sat down next to her, "Did I ever tell you about the time that Chris and I went to the shooting range?"

"Yes… but tell me again."

"Chris and I went to the shooting range a lot but there was one time when it was full up. So we were going to leave and go back in an hour. On our way out, this survivalist jerk hole knocks me over after complaining that there weren't enough lanes. Chris wanted to break his neck. Then the man started spouting off how women should be making sandwiches, and lewd remark about handling guns. I was ready to break his neck." Sherry giggled at Claire's story, it was a better sound than tears, "Chris stopped me, and challenged the jerk to a shooting contest, but instead of doing it himself, he volunteered me. Now, I was new to shooting, and I went from angry to scared in half a second flat, but Chris told me it was going to be fine. We let the asshole pick the weapons: .45 caliber, thirty aut six, and finally the elephant killer. The guy really wanted to show off his muscles. From the first time, when he put a round in the head, belly button, and air above the right shoulder, I knew I was going to win."

"What happened after that?"

"I won." Claire snapped, "My groupings were better. The Jerk just about threw a fit and stomped out."

"What about when you left?"

"Well, we found that the guy was waiting for us, and this time he had some friends with him. He said that he wasn't going to let some runt and his punk girlfriend show him up. There were about five of them, and they attacked us. Chris did most of the fighting, but I had a few teeth in my boot by the end of it. When we were done, Chris took the sandwich he had made for lunch, tossed at the guy, and said 'make me a sammich'." Sherry chuckled, her eyes still red from crying but she was feeling better, at least.

"Claire."

"Yeah, Sherry?"

"Do you think Chris would like me?"

"Are you kidding?" Claire reacted in a knee jerk, "He'd love you."

Claire had exhausted every option she could think of but one. That was why she called her brother. Sherry had been stuck in that awful facility for the better part of a decade now, and Chris wished Claire had called him sooner. He marched into the building. Security made feeble attempts to stop him. The rest of Alpha team followed in behind him. So when they moved, as a unit, the few guards that were there were all but terrified to confront them. Chris had treated this off hours outing as what it was a standard rescue mission. When they heard, every member of Alpha team volunteered to go with him.

Chris walked to the front desk, "I need to speak with Sherry Birkin." Chris demanded.

The woman punched a few keys on her computer, "I'm sorry—"

"Don't tell me there's no Sherry Birkin here. Claire Redfield says otherwise." Recognition lit in the receptionist's eyes.

"Let me—"

"Yeah you do that." Chris snarled.

Moments later, a swarthy looking man with a thin mustache and sharp features walked into the lobby. He was clothed in a beige Armani suit, and nervously twisting a gold thumb ring out of habit. He stood in direct contrast to the military style and olive drab civvies that were dominant in Alpha squad, "Derek C. Simmons," Derek stretched his hand out, Chris didn't take it, "I'm sorry but the patient in question is not available."

"That's fine, I'll talk to you." Chris growled, "Let me start. Do you know who the BSAA are?"

"I do." Simmons replied

"Then you know what we do, whose ears we have; so I'll get to the point. I want you to release Sherry Birkin into Claire's custody or we're going to have a problem."

"Mister…?"

"Captain Redfield." Simmons was surprised by Chris's name, but quickly regained his composure. He, obviously, did not expect to be dealing with one of the founders of the BSAA.

"Ah, Captain Redfield, I see. I'll tell you what I told your, I assume, sister. Sherry Birkin is a ward of the government. She can not be placed elsewhere. She can not be relocated. She is an invaluable asset—"

"You talk about her like she's property." One of Chris's men yelled.

"Frankly, she is." Simmons responded.

"This is a moment of truth, Simmons, you've got two options. You can deny my request, go about your business and hope we don't have someone higher up than you. Spoiler Alert: we do. This isn't the option you want. If I bother the people I'm thinking of bothering, and I call in those favors, they're going to wonder who I called it in on. Trust me; these people don't want me to call in those favors, and aren't going to be pissed at me. The second option, you can find a way to release Sherry Birkin. You have a week to detail a plan that satisfies me and everyone goes home happy. Refuse me on this, and I will go to war with you personally, and you had better hope you're better at ruining lives than I am. Either way, the tests stop."