Author’s Note: Hey again, ‘tis me. I’d just like to link you all to another
cracking fanfiction that is very different from this, but better written and
more entertaining. You can find it on fanfiction.net under
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1923546/1/ . It’s not for the thinskinned or the
faint of heart, but I trust you’ll enjoy it. You BETTER.

Back to the zany adventures of Rebecca and Chris!

--

When you stick two people in close quarters together, no matter how
friendly or kind they are, no matter how well they interact, no matter what
is bonding them together, they will eventually go insane. It will not be
long before they want to tear each other apart. And this was happening
between the two S.T.A.R.S. members.

The car that they had stolen would attract attention. Most people did not
see bulletholes without asking questions. Chris had pulled over at a
mechanic, slipping an extra fifty dollar bill into the man’s greasy palm,
but the man had merely pocketed it and asked if they were fugitives, no
doubt calculating how much profit a reward would gain him for turning in not
one, but two criminals who were obviously on the run. That was when they
decided it would be the best idea to ditch that car. Two towns later, they
left the car among the thick underbrush, hiking back to the city.

Chris had wanted to hotwire another car and break out on the road, but
Rebecca protested.

“We already robbed one poor man of his car,” she admonished the older man
as they sat down on a public bench. “We can’t just take cars to get around.”

“Well, Rebecca.” Chris said, trying to be patient as he ground his teeth
together. “What do you suggest we do?”

“We could stop here?” the medic suggested. “I have a few hundred dollars on
me, we could rent out the basement of a house. It’s what I did in college.”
At her modest, sensible suggestion, Chris drooped slightly. As far as he was
concerned, taking down Umbrella was a necessity, but it could at least be
done in a way that was swift and effective, even if it might get him
arrested and behind bars.

He didn’t fancy the notion of cowering in a basement and settling back into
civilian life.

“Besides,” Rebcca said, all clear reason, “We need to wait for Barry. Let
him spend some time with his wife and his kids, I mean, I bet he wants to
spend some times with them before we go to Europe. He could die. We all
could.”

The subject of family made Chris feel slightly uncomfortable. Claire would
worry, he knew she would, and she had always been headstrong. He just prayed
that she had the good sense not to get involved. Umbrella were heartless.
They would kill her. Not that she wouldn’t go down fighting, true to a
Redfield, but Chris would not place her in danger, even if it meant that he
himself would have to die to keep her safe. His sister was all that he had
left.

“Don’t you want to try calling your parents?”

“I tried, in the hotel… before I went to bed.” Rebecca said. “No response.
Not yet. They’re probably fine though,” her soft voice was filled with a
wavering hope. “I mean, it’s not like turning on your cell phone would be a
top priority when you’re being evacuated.”

“Sure.” Chris couldn’t find himself to hold the same hope for Mr. and Mrs.
Chambers. Chances were they were zombie chow, they were just ordinary
civilians. Twiddling his fingers together, he wondered absently if Jill was
out of the city yet. She said she would call him when she had the chance.

“Fine.” he finally sighed. “Let’s stay here for a week or two.”

Rebecca beamed, glad to think up an idea of use. Chris felt sullen. He
wanted action. If he had an idea, he would impliment it. If he had a plan,
he would act upon it, if he had something to do he would do it. But there
was nothing to do.

And so, he went house-hunting.

_ _ _

Dr. Angelina Carlson sighed, rubbing the temples of her friendly round
face. The buzz of the machines around her was too much; she craved human
contact.

Then again, she despised most of her colleagues. She freely admitted that
she wasn’t a genius, that she had actually graduated college a year late and
had to do her final docterate exam twice. But she was hardworking,
persistant, and thrifty. It was the only reason that she had this job, she
knew, but she didn’t care.

Her co-workers were obsessive, neurotic, and paranoid. They were not the
type of people you would want to spend a Friday evening around, and most of
them were younger than Angelina. She hated her situation, but the money was
good and the work was rewarding. She knew that whatever her superior’s
intentions were for using Bio Organic Weapons, that it would be worth it to
keep things like drafts happening.

The fact that B.O.W.s came from human beings didn’t seem to bother
Angelina. It was once said of Volitaire that he loved humanity, but hated
human beings, and the same could be said of the Umbrella Doctor. She
marvelled over works of art, astonished over history, and was amazed at the
accomplishments of the human race.

She interacted poorly with the people around her though, believing herself
morally -- if not mentally -- superior. But sometimes the drone of machines
in her office around her could get monotonous. She stood, sweeping out of
her office.

God, she hated this place.