Chapter Text
Night had draped Raccoon City in darkness, yet the city never truly slept.
Beyond the Redfields’ window, the glow of streetlamps shimmered across the rain-slick pavement left behind by the evening shower. Every so often, a car passed in the distance, trailing a ribbon of light in its wake. Darkness had already settled behind most of the neighboring windows. Ordinary people had long since gone to sleep.
Claire Redfield definitely did not count among normal people tonight.
She sat cross-legged on her bed, a laptop balanced on her knees. The bright glow of the screen illuminated her face and the auburn hair cascading over her shoulders. On the desk beside her, notebooks, loose notes, and several empty coffee cups were piled high, all of which Chris would undoubtedly have ordered her to get rid of immediately.
But Chris was asleep. And Claire had more important things to do. She clicked another link. The article opened almost instantly.
MYSTERIOUS HERO SAVES THE CITIZENS OF RACCOON CITY ONCE AGAIN
Claire felt a pleasant thrill of excitement. She leaned closer to the screen. This was already the fifth article she had read that evening.
A few weeks earlier, most residents had considered the mysterious figure nothing more than an urban legend. There had been isolated witness accounts. Someone claimed to have seen a masked man leaping between rooftops. Someone else spoke of a mysterious figure who had helped an elderly woman during a robbery.
It sounded absurd. But then the recordings began to appear. Photographs. Witnesses. And now… proof.
Claire clicked play. The footage came from a gas station security camera. The image was grainy and unclear. Two masked assailants rushed into the store. One of them carried a gun. The cashier raised his hands.
A classic robbery.
Then something happened that nobody could explain logically. For a single frame, the camera captured nothing but a blurred shadow. Then the first attacker was literally hurled across the room. The second was subdued before he could even raise his weapon. The entire incident lasted perhaps three seconds. Three seconds.
Claire watched the footage again. And again. Then she paused it. A figure appeared on the screen. Dark clothing. Mask. Hood. The face completely hidden.
Yet there was something about that figure that made it impossible for her to look away.
“Who exactly are you…?” she murmured under her breath.
She rose from the bed. Crossed the room.
Her wall looked like something halfway between an FBI command center and the room of someone with a very specific obsession.
There were printed photographs. Newspaper clippings. Notes. Arrows connecting different events. Dates. Locations. Witnesses.
Claire stopped in front of the largest photograph. A blurry frame taken on a cellphone. The mysterious hero stood atop a building. The wind tugged at his jacket. The quality was terrible. Even so, it occupied the central position.
Claire folded her arms across her chest.
“All right. What do we know?”
She glanced at her notes.
She talked to herself more often than she cared to admit.
“You mostly appear in the evenings. You never kill. You help people. You only intervene when it’s truly necessary.”
Her gaze moved across the pages.
“You’re not looking for attention.”
That was the strangest part. If someone possessed abilities like those, most people would want fame. Interviews. Money. Recognition.
Yet this man vanished every time. Without a trace. Without a name. Without a face. As though helping people was reason enough in itself.
Claire sighed. That was what fascinated her most. Not the powers. Not the mystery. Just the man hidden behind the mask.
She sat down at her desk. Opened a new document. Then began writing questions. If she ever managed to meet him. If she ever managed to get an interview. If. Suddenly she heard a knock. She jumped.
The door cracked open. Chris peeked into the room. Claire groaned.
“You’re still awake?”
“I should be asking you that.”
Chris stepped inside. His brow furrowed. He looked at the wall. Then at the laptop screen. Then back at the wall.
“Claire…”
“Yes?”
“Tell me this isn’t another evening devoted to that guy.”
“It’s an investigation.”
“It’s an obsession.”
“You’re insulting journalistic standards.”
Chris snorted.
“You’re sixteen.”
“A lot of great journalists started younger.”
“A lot of great journalists also went to sleep.”
Claire rolled her eyes. Chris stepped closer. For a moment he studied the photographs.
“I still don’t understand what fascinates you so much about him.”
“He saves people.”
“So do police officers.”
“Police officers don’t jump across rooftops.”
“That’s actually true.”
Claire smiled triumphantly.
Chris let out a heavy sigh.
“Just be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
Chris gave her a look so pointed that even she didn’t believe her own words.
“Sure.”
“I’m serious.”
“Claire.”
“All right, sometimes I’m not careful.”
“Exactly.”
Silence settled between them for a moment.
Chris looked once more at the photograph of the mysterious hero.
“Do you think he’s dangerous?”
Claire shook her head almost immediately.
“No.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Intuition.”
“Brilliant.”
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m trying.”
“I mean it.”
Chris noticed the conviction in her eyes. This was not ordinary fascination.
Claire genuinely believed the man was good. And for some reason, Chris had a similar feeling. Though he would never admit it.
“All right. Just don’t stay up until morning.”
“Sure.”
“Claire.”
“Sure.”
“You’re lying.”
“A little.”
Chris shook his head and left.
When the door closed, Claire turned back to her laptop. The paused footage still filled the screen. The hero’s silhouette. Blurred. Elusive. Mysterious.
Claire bit her lower lip. Somewhere out there, he existed. Real. Breathing. Walking the same streets. Maybe she even passed him every day. The thought made her heart beat a little faster.
She didn’t know why.
Maybe she was simply curious. Or maybe it was something more. She could not yet put a name to it. One thing, however, was certain.
Sooner or later, she would find the mysterious hero. And when she did… she would get that interview. Even if she had to turn all of Raccoon City upside down to make it happen.
Morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, flooding the room with warm golden light.
It was one of those quiet mornings that seemed entirely ordinary.
Birds sang somewhere beyond the window. The coffee maker gurgled softly. An old song played on the radio. And Chris Redfield had exactly three minutes of relative peace.
He sat at the table with a mug of coffee in one hand and a newspaper spread before him.
Exactly three minutes.
Then he heard rapid footsteps on the stairs. Very rapid footsteps.
Far too rapid for someone who had only just gotten out of bed.
Chris sighed. He already knew. He simply knew. A second later Claire burst into the kitchen. Literally burst in.
Her auburn hair was slightly disheveled from sleep. She wore an oversized sweatshirt. A phone in one hand. A notebook in the other. Her eyes gleamed with that familiar spark Chris knew all too well. It was the spark that meant trouble.
Big trouble.
“Good morning!” she announced enthusiastically.
Chris did not even look up from his newspaper.
“No.”
“I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“But you’re about to.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve known you for sixteen years.”
Claire sat down across from him.
Far too close.
Chris immediately set down the newspaper.
“I don’t like that smile.”
“What smile?”
“That one.”
“It’s a normal smile.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Claire.”
“Chris.”
“What do you want?”
The girl straightened immediately in her chair.
“I have a question.”
“Of course you do.”
“Just one.”
“Sure.”
“Maybe two.”
“Mhm.”
“All right, a few.”
Chris reached for his coffee.
“Go ahead.”
Claire opened her notebook.
As though she were preparing to interrogate a witness.
“The gas station robbery.”
Chris closed his eyes almost instantly. Of course. Of course that was what this was about.
“Claire…”
“Just hear me out.”
“I don’t like the beginning of that sentence.”
“It’s important.”
“Everything is important to you.”
“Because it is.”
Chris took a sip of coffee. Claire leaned across the table.
“So?”
“So what?”
“Do you have any new information?”
“No.”
“Chris.”
“No.”
“I haven’t even asked the question.”
“You did.”
“No.”
“You asked it with your eyes.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It does.”
Claire rolled her eyes.
“All right.”
She opened the notebook.
“How many attackers were there?”
“Two.”
“I know that.”
“See?”
“Were they known to the police already?”
“Claire.”
“Did you recover the weapon?”
“Claire.”
“Did you question the cashier?”
“Claire.”
“Did you…”
“Claire.”
The girl sighed.
“You’re hopeless.”
“I’m a police officer.”
“Almost the same thing.”
“Thanks.”
For a moment they sat in silence.
Claire drummed her fingers against the tabletop. Chris knew that gesture. It meant her brain was running at full speed. And that rarely ended well.
“Did you see the footage?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“All the cameras?”
Chris narrowed his eyes.
And that was when he understood.
“No.”
Claire smiled innocently.
Far too innocently.
“What no?”
“No, I’m not showing them to you.”
“But I haven’t asked yet.”
“You just did.”
“Technically, I didn’t.”
“Claire.”
“Chris.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m asking.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“Because you’re predictable.”
“I’m creative.”
“You’re predictably creative.”
Claire crossed her arms.
“I want to see the footage from the exterior cameras.”
“No.”
“Chris.”
“No.”
“But why?”
“Because it’s evidence.”
“I won’t show it to anyone.”
“No.”
“I mean it.”
“No.”
“I swear.”
“Still no.”
Claire groaned dramatically.
“That’s unfair.”
“It’s legal.”
“Almost the same thing.”
“No.”
“A little.”
“Not at all.”
The girl slumped back in her chair. For several seconds she looked as though she were analyzing a new strategy.
Chris knew that expression.
And that was exactly why he started to worry.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t try anything.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“I can see it.”
“You can’t.”
“I can.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Claire sighed.
Then leaned forward.
“Listen.”
“No.”
“I haven’t even started.”
“But I know that tone.”
“Chris.”
“Claire.”
“This could be important.”
“It isn’t.”
“What if it is?”
“It isn’t.”
“What if that guy appeared earlier in the footage?”
“No.”
“What if we can see where he came from?”
“No.”
“What if…”
“Claire.”
This time Chris’s voice was firm.
Very firm.
The girl fell silent.
Chris set down his mug.
“Listen to me carefully.”
Claire immediately knew the serious part of the conversation had begun.
“This isn’t a game.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Chris rested his elbows on the table.
“We’re talking about an active investigation.”
“I know.”
“Armed criminals.”
“I know.”
“A case being handled by the police.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you keep trying to involve yourself?”
Claire opened her mouth. After a moment, however, she closed it again.
Because she didn’t know the full answer herself.
At least not one she could explain.
“I just…”
She trailed off.
Chris waited.
“I just want to know who he is.”
“Why?”
The question came quietly. Calmly. Without malice.
Claire looked away.
At the window.
At the sunlight pouring into the kitchen.
“I don’t know.”
Chris did not believe her for a second.
“Claire.”
“I really don’t know.”
But she did.
Maybe she could not name it. Maybe she could not yet put the feeling into words. But she knew one thing.
Every time new footage appeared. A new photograph. A new witness.
She immediately wanted to know more.
As though behind that mask lay a story she had to uncover.
“He’s different.”
Chris sighed.
“That’s not a reason.”
“It is for me.”
“Claire.”
“He saves people.”
“I know.”
“He risks his life for strangers.”
“I know.”
“And nobody knows why.”
“Not everyone needs a reason.”
“That’s exactly why I want to find him.”
Chris remained silent for a moment.
He looked at his sister. At her stubbornness. At the spark of determination. At the very trait that had gotten her into trouble more than once.
And that also made her who she was.
“You’re still not getting the footage.”
Claire lowered her head.
“Please.”
“No.”
“Chris.”
“No.”
“I’m begging.”
“No.”
“I’m really asking nicely.”
“Still no.”
“I’m asking extremely nicely.”
“That’s not even an argument.”
“It’s the best one I’ve got.”
“I believe that.”
“So?”
“No.”
Claire groaned so loudly that the neighbors’ dog barked somewhere outside. Chris could not suppress a smile.
“End of discussion.”
“You’re cruel.”
“Yes.”
“The worst brother in the world.”
“I’ve heard worse.”
“Tyrant.”
“Thank you.”
“Despot.”
“How kind.”
“Monster.”
“I appreciate it.”
Claire stood from the table.
“We’ll come back to this conversation.”
“We won’t.”
“We will.”
“No.”
“You’ll see.”
Chris watched her leave the kitchen.
Then he sighed heavily. Because he knew his sister. Far too well. And he had a very unpleasant feeling. That refusing her access to the footage… Did not mean the end of her investigation. Quite the opposite.
For Claire Redfield, it was probably only the beginning.