Chapter Text
“My wife filed a divorce about a few weeks ago. It was something about not respecting her wishes, which in my opinion, I respected her very, very much,” Porter, her driver, slurred. He took another hit of his cigarette and watched the smoke twirl into each other: the addiction of the fogginess of the fumes made it all worthwhile to him as his eyes watered. The feeling of Utopia was in his grasp, but this hell of a world trapped him. “She got up, took the kids and left. Yep, she left me and the dog to rot in hell. She said, ‘Rot in hell, Porter, rot in the deepest parts of hell.’” He yanked his white tank top off — coated with holes from the burns of past cigarettes and alcohol stains that will always be a reminder of his lovely indulgences — and tossed it onto the rugged brown leather that was eroding in front of his eyes, leaving his bare chest out for exposure.
It creaked from placing the shirt, not being able to withstand any more add-ons of weight. He itched the top of his head and felt the rough patches of skin rub against his fingertips. He then traveled towards the sides of his head where his curly brown hair welcomed his embrace by curling itself around Porter’s fingers. He tugged back in retaliation and set his hand back on the wheel. “I don’t need ‘em. I don’t need ‘em at all,” he yelled. The diver’s seat jolted back into the backseat where all of his precious magazines were laid out for when he was “in a mood”, and knocked them onto the passenger Six.
She paid no mind to his proclamation; his wishy-washy story only served as a catharsis for him. Instead, she shoved the magazines from her body and grabbed a few off of the floor. One of the magazines had the title 'Playboy' boldly printed on it, featuring a blonde woman sensually sucking on a lollipop while wearing a revealing bikini. She squinted her eyes at the photo then glanced back at Porter, her temporary designated driver, with disdain on her face. With no hesitation, she tossed the magazine and dug into the next pile of junk. Porter glanced at the rear mirror to look at her figure once more and took notice of how her dark curls had overtaken the view of half of her face. With each curl having a different pattern than the last, her hair resembled the flow of splattered ink on paper.
Their eyes met. With the intensity of a thousand suns and a thousand stars, they held each other’s gaze with the utmost care. The gaze they held forced her to press her lips into a frown and scowled at his cold eyes.
“What?” she asked.
His glance traveled from her knees—her sweatpants dusted with grime, while some of her skin peaked through the fabric — to her brown eyes—eyes that matched jars of molasses, and turned his gaze back towards the road.
“Just don’t mess up my collection. It’s a limited edition Playboy magazine, and I do not want some girl to mess up Amalia Evangilne’s legacy.” She remarked with a scoff and placed her tongue on the side of her cheek.
“Whatever you say,” was all that she could muster up, for her eyes were half opened and her body drooped with each passing moment. Six looked beyond the car window with the hope of being entranced in the scenery, and to tune out all of Porter’s meaningless statements. The mountains were the first thing that immediately caught her attention. Heights that grazed Heaven’s gates and soaked up its ethereal beauty from up top while from the bottom, sheets of snow concealed the base. Trapped in an icy slumber until the next spring solstice, the mountains glistened under the soft caress of sunlight, with a single slender of light to be shared amongst them. It was beautiful, along with the grassy plain where the wind shared its dance with the flowers and trees, forcing them to move along with it. Six would voluntarily spend her last breath if she had a choice.
She wondered if she could steal the beauty of nature, for it was one of the few things that could truly take her breath away. Six would keep its essence in a glass jar and praise its ethereal aura till its last withering glow and till its first form of death.
She shut her eyes and buried her nose into her thick sweatshirt that she “borrowed” from an old friend which smelt like a bundle of pinecones and heaps of herbal tea infused in one another. With a slight creak in each miniature movement she made, her body curled into a small cocoon to shield her from the harsh blow of cold air coming from the—cigarette-scented— air vents. This would probably take her breath away too, and she prayed that she did so she could escape his car. A flick was heard towards the driver’s seat and a bright light shines through her eyelids. Six squinted only to see Porter lighting up another one, this time using a lighter instead of a match. He could get creative when he wanted to be. It was surprising to her. Him being resourceful? It had to be a mere dream to her.
The puff of smoke laced the top of the car in its scent and harbored the two of them in the car. “So,” he said, interrupting the pleasant silence and replacing it with his jarring voice, “are you gonna tell me your name?” She blinked. She blinked once more. Then blinked a third time for good measure. Forget this being a mere dream. This was a damn nightmare in itself. In annoyance, her eyes rolled, and placed a pout on her lips. Her tongue swiped her lips as she pondered about his question; what should her name be?
There was Selwyn, the name she used for the mission from Bolivia; Esme, the mission from Peru; Linette, the mission from Poland; and several others that were pulled from a name book she found in a library. As expected from Porter’s atrocious driving, one of the back wheels went in a pothole and bounced his precious items around the car. His tapes, clothes, shoes, and magazines went flying in all directions and scattered into new locations. Two of the tapes that were practically flying in the air had fallen into the center of her lap and stayed there after Porter attempted to avoid the concrete dips. When everything had settled down, she came across two distinctive names: Bri and Elle.
“Brielle, my name’s Brielle,” she said with her chest clenched. He raised an eyebrow at her, then chuckled.
“Mmm, that’s interesting.” She took a large breath, then turned away to the other side of the car. It took everything in her not to shriek in disgust at the behavioral issues that were on display in front of her own eyes. Without a second thought, she scooted closer to the door to avoid his predatory gaze and the piss-stained spot on the right of her. Just like his baggy jeans, the seats almost sagged to the floor — which was inhabited by a sea of clothes, shoes, “tapes’’, magazines, empty cigarette boxes, and more useless trash — as it was missing a few springs and bolts to keep it in place.
This was her purgatory; no amount of suffering could ever equate to the unbearable smell of fresh sex, smoke, cat piss, and the manifestation of death itself. She didn’t care if she was being dramatic. She felt the need to unlock the car door, roll out, and be free of this olfactory hell. Her eyes fell shut just to reach the faint tangible dream of her old car. Six’s sense of smell shifted towards the black cherry aroma that she had been well acquainted with since she first held the car keys in her hands. The feeling of the smooth leather steering wheel combined with the threads that held it in shape was almost in her grasp. Instead of luxury and happiness, the life that she wanted, she instead got this. Her eyes opened; the headrest faced her once again. She got the hellish car with this hellish-looking man. Six slapped her hand against the center of her face and let out a groan that was louder than before.
If only my car didn’t blow up.
Porter looked over his shoulder to face her this time. He let out a toothy smile that matched the color of the rugs on the floor: a piss color. Porter cast another ‘hungry’ gleam in his eyes as he cackled with mischief wrapped around the hardy laugh. His patchy beard along with the bald spot in the middle did no justice for him, and would never do any justice in the future as it gives the impression of the criminals Six saw in old TV shows. Only this time this was her reality.
“Why are you doing that? Why are you acting so pretentious?” He snarled. Her eyes snapped up to his, reflecting the pent-up tension she had for the last six hours. For the last six hours, she dealt with utter foolishness that she would have never experienced if she had her car intact. Heat flowed to her cheeks changing her soft brown skin into a darker shade of brownish-red that was rarely seen from her. With her eyes narrowed and her nose crinkled all she could say was, “Just keep on driving.” Porter’s lips left an exasperated sigh floating around the air as his body turned away, but Six could sense his displeasure and annoyance even if his back faced her. She knew that the travel from her last mission to her current one would be excruciating, but this right here took the cake for her. “You know,” he said, then paused to push his glasses to his nose, “I could kick you out of my car.”
The sound of the car braking was his only saving grace, for if the car didn’t she would have climbed to the front and strangled him with her shoelace until his face turned blue. Six’s fingers tugged on the lace of her sweatpants and curled it around her finger till it tingled and went numb from lack of circulation. The seats rattled once more with a force that was greater than before, probably from him running over another pothole in the road, but also the lack of structure in the car. At least Porter and his car had something in common. One of the mystery tapes pressed against her foot, which in short, perked up her interests since she had never witnessed someone traveling with tapes in the backseat of their car.
“What’s with the tapes?” She asked. “You don’t strike me as a movie fanatic.” Porter cast another lingering glance her way from the rearview mirror and took a second to respond. As she waited for his—most likely idiotic —answer, Six placed her foot on the center of the headrest that was positioned in front of her, bending it down slightly due to her force. Her other leg, however, stayed planted down on the floor with the occasional tapping every once in a while. How ironic it was for her attitude to be so straight, but her body to replicate the contortionists found in cheap, run-of-the-mill, circuses.
“For fun,” he finally responded. She couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows at his answer. By the definition of fun, she wondered what type he was referring to, hence the gleam in his dark eyes. Six didn’t want to ask, though she got the hint. Porter finished the remains of his cigarettes as they burned the tips of his fingertips, but there was no reaction nor emotion displayed on his face, just shallowness. He rolled up the window as it squeaked with each turn of the handle and he swiftly tossed it out. “Now then, this is where the fun begins.”
“What are you talking about now?”
He shook his head and reached his hands behind him, “Brielle give me the map, I don’t know where the hell we are.” She blinked, then blinked once more.
“I don’t know where the map is. I need a map to find the map, that’s how messy your car is,” she stated. Porter let out a massive sigh that was trapped within his lungs and huffed once again. He yet again stared aimlessly at the road in front of him, scrunching his face up with irritation. Suddenly, his whole body did a 180 and hunched towards the sea of trash as his hands were sucked into the worthless pieces of garbage. The hands that were supposed to be stirring the car were now tossing and throwing items around and occasionally grasping the dirty magazines that he treasured dearly.
Her eyes widened, and with a cold gust enveloping her body in an instant she launched herself forward and seized the wheel as fast as she could. She should have brought her gun to the backseat so she could blow her brains out right then and there. Six might as well have just climbed back there so she could retrieve it and take Porter and her out of this lifetime. The car picked up speed; yellow lines on the road seemed to be a distant, blurry memory and the signs that they passed flashed in their heads then immediately disappeared into the sea of time. She maneuvered around honking vehicles filled with angry people who were jeering curses and hand gestures as the car remained at a constant speed. The wind slapped her across the face for her foolish decision to get in the car with Portner, the doofus, and his questionable addictions.
He then turned back around with a ‘Aha’ moment exhibited on his face then brushed Six’s hands from the steering wheel. With one swift motion, he opened up the map, revealing the webs of highways and interstates that were scattered on the map, entangled with drawings of rivers and symbols that obscure some of the names of the highways. His foot slammed on the brakes, and without any warning, her body jolted back with only the collision of the busted seat to save her from snapping her neck. A sharp pain erupted on her back and spread down her waist as she groaned in agony. She laid there for a second, perplexed about how much audacity this man had and how pea-minded he really was. Her heart skipped a beat, then another, then another.
“I’m about to go into cardiac arrest soon,” she gasped for air, with her shoulders moving up and down.
“You’re getting arrested? What the hell, are you some type of convict?” She tilted her head up towards him and squinted.
I’m gonna get the gun.
『 𝐕𝐈 』
After that eventful fiscal the car ride fell into a hushed silence, broken only by the coughing and wheezing coming from Porter and the squeaking sound of the seats. The sun hid above the clouds now: withholding its iconic, fiery beauty from the sky and storing it for another day. Clouds took their place on this cold Thursday, whirling around each other in thunderous waves. Though pockets of light shine every now and again it seemed as if gray clouds would rule the day like it did Yesterday and the day before that. “45 more minutes to go, if you were wondering,” he muttered. Her elbow rested on the armrest with her hand propping up her head. Six couldn’t help but fidget in her chair, relentless as she was, her persistence fueled her determination to find relief in the uncomfortable seat. As her discomfort increased from the underlying fabric that was peeling from the seat, her patience was to the floor. Her frustration mounted on her while she wished for an escape from the unforgivable chair. “What did I just say?”
“Please don’t start back up again.” He threw a couple of curses her way, though his speech was made for those who are gifted in hearing.
“You think you’re the boss of this shit, don’t you? I remember way back when I was doing this job back in… damn when did I start? Uh, back- back when what’s his face was in office.” He took a second to gather his thoughts, then snapped his fingers as his eyes lit up. “President Eisenhower, that’s who it was. The year was 1956.”
Damn.
“I was living in North Dakota for a while with my second wife and her kids, a bunch of shits, anyways, I had this tussle with this customer. Gave me shit about how my car was where Satan rested his head after tormenting sinners, or something along the lines of that, come to find out he didn’t even have a car. In this situation, you’re the man.”
“North Dakota?”
“Yes North Dakota, can’t you hear?”
A mental picture popped up. Goosebumps ran down her arms like a snowstorm covering a grassy plain and she suddenly felt cold— a coldness that could not be explained, but that she could only embrace in her arms. With an instant she traveled back two days ago: October 30th.
A snowy day in the town of Medora, North Dakota was what unfolded in her mind, in the deepest tablets of her mind. Leather boots that were too snug but held little hit were what was worn, along with the dark, fur coat that made her body two times larger than her normal figure, and goggles that made her eyes appear smaller. Mission 19914, or the nickname, firestorm was what she took on. Yes, she remembered it clearly. Document 107 to be exact. The theory of superhumans and superbeings was what was being presented. A way to alter the DNA of an organism, transform it into raw strength, and reach the zenith of power
She remembered traveling through the town with only a backpack filled with miscellaneous items and her phone that didn’t even work half the time. Six envisioned her footprints marking the snow of her presence with each step she took. It was cold, so cold on that snowy October day. With folders bundled up in her hand, she plopped them down on the ground and kneeled in front of them. Her fingers pressed together trying to recall the feeling of her hands. They were numb, no, they were rather frigid with the tips of her fingers laced with hundreds of snowflakes dancing on the tips kissed with its icy glow which caused a potent red color to appear. The goal of collecting data, data that would forever change the course of history.
“Hey!” Porter shouted. Her attention was snatched away from her and taken by Porter. Heat rushed to her cheeks and her breath hitched. “We need to make a quick stop at the gas station.”
“Okay.”
She pushed a breath out then another and gripped the armrest tightly. Just a couple more minutes and then she would be free. Once more she looked out and saw upcoming signs of Raccoon City and bulletin boards that took up half of the space, something about Thanksgiving food being handed out. The mountains that grazed the sky were barely visible and the sun completely hid above the clouds. It was funny to her that a gloomy day could become even gloomier.
“Would you be a doll and pass me one of those CDs to the right of you? I’m tired of listening to the engine.” She rattled around some junk until she grabbed a random CD from the floor. The surface was scratched up by what seemed to be cat scratches and had specks of food covered on it. She passed it to him and he promptly placed it in the CD player. The bass vibrated the car and rubbed her back, he yelled and cried the lyrics in a matter of seconds and nodded his head back and forth. She would rather take a million blows in the head than listen to the God-awful music for another second. Six’s eyes felt heavy as if tapes were stuck on her eyelashes onto her cheeks. Her gaze was blurred as she yawned and cuddled against the car rugged car door with the sleeves of her shirt serving as a makeshift pillow. Then shifted back into her dream-like state.
After a few minutes, her eyes opened. The food-stained ceiling is what she saw first. She sighed with relief. It turned out that she fell asleep for too long. Her back against the seat and her body facing the ceiling it seemed like she slumped down while in her restless slumber. There was no more music, the sounds of Porter were no longer present— to her relief— and she immediately sighed. She pushed her body up and then looked out the window.
How long was I asleep? She thought. A sign labeled ‘Food Market’ was flashing sporadically as some of the letters were permanently colorless and also croaked. She glanced to the left. Multiple gas pumps were present as well, but there was no sign of Porter. Six reached for the handle and climbed her way out of the car. Her foot pressed against the concrete and the outside air hit her on every inch of skin that was revealed. She shuttered and shrank into the clothes that graced her warmth and heat. She wondered how long it would be until they reached Raccoon City, but it couldn’t be that long. Six walked along the rock path that was behind the car and followed each pebble that was placed. Amidst the shaky trees and the leaves that were destined to wither away on the ground, there was nothing that was truly living, except for her of course.
Almost everything seemed dead or on the path to dying. She kicked the rocks and pressed her foot against them. Her hand gravitated towards her curls once again and pulled on them just to watch them spring up again. Where was Porter? She dug her hand into her pocket and shrugged. Her hand vibrated, then vibrated once again. Six pulled her— somewhat— operating phone and looked at the caller.
DK-980035, or Five for short. One of her trusted team members, and the only person Six would sell her soul for. Her thumb pressed the answer button and she held the phone up to her ears.
“Hello?” Was all she could say.
“Where the hell are you?!” She yelled through the phone. Six shut her eyes and hummed softly, hiding a small smile. “So you decide to go off the radar for the millionth time and not tell anyone, oh how typical. Stop smiling, I know you are.” Six lips curved upward and she let out a dramatic sigh.
“Were you worried about me, hm? You could just tell me because I was worried about you too.”
“Oh wow, color me surprised. Just get on one knee and marry me, why don’t you? Maybe then you won’t disappear every three weeks!”
“Relax… I was just getting my hair done. I would rather be flawless and dead than boorish and alive,” Six said jokingly. Five took a deep, long breath and held it for a second. Six could hear fumes coming out of her ears and tried not to burst out in laughter.
“I hope you die in that city, and all that remains is your bones, and if you’re still alive I’ll personally make you look boorish.”
“Hey, don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“Ugh, you’re so childish. Report your coordinates back to HQ in the next five hours. If you remain silent I will personally come to your location and lodge a machete between your chest. Do I make myself clear?” Five asked.
“Crystal!” She barked. Without a moment wasted, she hung up the phone and smiled ear to ear. God, she loved to mess with that woman. Six bit her lip threw the phone back into her pocket where it originally resided and narrowed her eyes. The trail of her thoughts, previously scattered, now linked up and lit a spark in her head that set off an activation of neurons.
”I’m late.” The time was currently 8:48 A.M., and she was supposed to be at her current place at 8:30. The store’s door swung open, and cursing followed along in its path. Porter tripped over the curbside and fell straight onto his back, hitting his head on one of the parking curbs. He rolled around with his hands on his head and whined into the ground. With his fists clenched he smacked the concrete in a fit of rage and immaturity and kicked the tips of his shoe onto the ground.
“You, you bitch!” He revealed his face and streams of crimson blood leaked down it. Well, that proves that rivers can’t flow upstream. “Brielle, unload the trunk!” He called out to her. She stood there with her arms to her sides and pouted at his cowardliness.
“You told me to mind my business. You shouldn’t let ‘some girl’ aid you in all your fights.” Her butt plopped down on the side of the parking lot and she sat criss-cross with her arms folded over each other. Six wasn’t a nosey person by default, no she was taught to mind her business and go about her day. However, this was pure comedy. She was already late to her meeting and, therefore, had no intention of rushing. Her eyes darkened with the same mischievous gaze Porter had a few hours ago, but only this time it cast a dark shadow to the beholder of her sight.
“Get up old man,” The man said. His hair fell upon his shoulders and was wearing an identical shirt that Porter had worn a while ago, except instead of white it was jet black with the tiniest of stains. A beep was heard inside of her sweatshirt once again with the same catchy tune she heard a million times. She swayed from side to side and hummed the tune with ease, how she loved that song. With a swift movement grasped the phone out of her pocket and flipped it open with her thumb.
“Hello?”
“925476, are you there?” A voice said.
“Yes Jenephie, I am obviously here.”
“Thank God, I thought you got captured. No one was able to contact you since–“
“Since I left for North Dakota, I know.”
“Well, you were supposed to be here by now!”
“I know Jenny, just give me a few minutes, I’m around the corner.” She was in fact, not around the corner. The dark-haired man threw a kick at Porter’s way and he managed to dodge it just in time. He wobbled to get to his knees and shook against the air around him, muttering something incoherent about Six once again.
“You’re such a liar,” Jenny muttered under her breath.
“Aw, you’re growing up now. My lies used to work on you all the time, what a shame,” Six huffed. She pulled on her sweatshirt and held her phone by her ear. The cuffs on the sleeves were tugged on as she continued to talk to her coworker.
“I’m older than you, 925476.”
“I’m not a damn robot, Jenny, you can call me Six, I’m not gonna bite you,” Six laughed, with her shoulders shaking lightly. Porter sprang up on his feet and got into the typical fighting stance. Six squinted at his figure and his build. First off, his feet weren’t in the right place and the shape of his knuckles was wrong as well. Yeah, he was gonna get his ass kicked. “You don’t even know my age, either. What are you? Some type of detective, Jen? Let me get you a magnifying glass and a hat, you could be the next Sherlock Holmes.”
“Stop, that’s not funny Six!”
“See, doesn’t Six flow off the tongue better?”
“No. I don’t wanna call you a number… I feel as if I’m talking to one of those children’s books that display generic math. Like, what’s three plus three? Six. I don’t like it.” She closed her eyes and had the sudden urge to hang up and throw her phone at Porter.
“Kick rocks.”
“Yeah, I’ll kick six rocks at six o’clock at night, eating six apples. Are you almost here? Six, six, six.”
“Stop saying my name.”
“Well, I thought that if I repeated it three times you would appear.”
“Kiss my ass, Jenephie,” Six mumbled. She hung up and snapped the phone close without a second thought. Porter was still wrestling the guy with one shoe off and the buttons on his jeans now resting on the cold pavement.
“Don’t you ever comment on my wife, asshole,” he said to Porter as he shoved him into the glass window.
“Alright, alright, alright!” He pleaded to him but it was barely audible since his mouth kissed the cold surface. The man let go and spit on the tip of his nose, it trailed down to his mouth and Porter closed his eyes and scrunched his face in pure disgust along with Six. She got up from her comfortable seat and walked towards the car, with some skipping seen from her.
“Yo, are you done, Porter?” She called out to him. “I’m late to my meeting.” Porter cursed at her some more and pushed him off his body, glaring at him. She hopped into the car and stretched into the chair, “Let’s get this over with.” His legs wobbled over the car with his arms dangling down; This was probably not how he wanted to spend his day. Bright red bruises covered his body like polka dots that are found on gift wraps, while the lens on his glasses exposed his eyes.
She desperately wanted to put her finger in his glasses and poke his eye just for fun, but the poor man had been through so much already. So, she laid her head once again on the headrest and hummed the melody of her ringtone, then hummed the melody of Porter’s grunts when he was on the ground.
“What did you say about-“
“Shut the hell up and sit back, I’m not gonna tell you again little girl,” he snapped. Six pulled on her sleeve over her mouth and then looked at the scenery around them. It was going to be a long ride. For the past few minutes, he played that trashy song that Six disliked with a passion. She didn’t understand why he enjoyed the scratchy vocals of the singers or the offbeat drums in the background, but she did understand one thing: the song was his comfort song… he needed a lot of comfort right about now.
From sky-high mountains to blinding city lights in the distance she could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. She perked up slightly from her excitement and tapped her thighs in a rhythm. With every mile, the lights captured her into a hypnotic state bringing pleasure within her. Raccoon City was in her grasp. His car came to a stop and then made a turn at the red light, moving slower and slower until it came to a complete stop. He shifted gears and then parked the car. “Get out.” She rolled her eyes and got out of the hell-tormenting car with pleasure.
The building in front of her had two stories, and she prayed that she was on the first one. The exterior had this reddish-orange coat that resembled the scorching sun, with pillars made of wood—painted with an off-white color. It was empty for the most part, with only Jenephie’s silver car, and two others that she didn’t recognize. This was her final goal of the day.
“Seems like we’re both staying here for a couple of days,” Porter said to her. Six whipped her head and back and stared him down like a hawk.
“What?”
“I’m staying for a couple weeks, got some business to attend to, if you know what I mean.” No, she didn’t know what he meant.
“Whatever,” she responded. She took the keys out of his hand and opened the truck. One by one she emptied her belongings until Porter’s stuff was all that remained. After that, she unzipped the zippers from one of her bookbags and grabbed a heap of cash. “Here, keep the change.” She pushed the money onto him and then walked away. The area smelt fresh and cleaner which was a relief to Six, she refused to ever step in that horrid vehicle again.
“There you are!” It was Jenephie once again to save the day. She scurried down the stairs and made her way to Six and her belongings. Without Six even saying a word she quickly grabbed half of her belongings and headed towards their room, which was unfortunately on the second floor. Jenephie opened the door and revealed the lavish room that they had been given for two weeks. The aroma of lavender filled her scent and was engulfed by the floral smell. Walls of tarnish color were splattered in each room and in the center laid a red couch with two nightstands on each side. “It took you long enough”
“I know I know, I—” Jenephie cut her off and hugged her tightly in her embrace, Six’s eyes widened as she stood there, she had never really gotten hugs during her lifetime, this felt too intimate.
Jenephie pulled back and grabbed each shoulder with her bare hands.
“I thought you were dead.”
“Oh so you make fun of my name and now make fun of my survival abilities, classic Jenephie move,” she scoffed in her face.
“Hush.”
“Ugh, you’re so clingy Jen, what the hell.” Six placed her hand on her back and patted it with force. Jen quickly pushed her off and winced at the slight pain. Six plopped down on the red couch and threw her head back. “So… what’s the plan, general?”
Jen huffed in annoyance and pulled out her computer from her bag. She did some typing and pulled up a document. “Brian Irons, Chief of Police of the Raccoon Police Department is one of our main targets. It is believed that Irons knows the whereabouts of Umbrella’s facility. Bride with money, he became a shield for Umbrella.”
“We just need his location.”
“Easy.” She typed some more and her eyes darkened.
“24 Westword Ave.”