#writemebb

Not half a second later, his gloved hand clapped against my mouth to silence me. “Shhh, doll. It’s just me and you,” he waved absentmindedly behind him with his other hand. “The others are dead. No point wasting those pretty little screams…” I felt bile rise up in my throat, knowing the pain they must have gone through.

Seemingly spotting my change in demeanour, the Ghostface tilted his mask and examined me. “Oh, but I’ve upset you now. I’m sorry, baby. Would it make it better if I told you it was quick?” It must have been. We’d not been in the trial long. I hadn’t even been hit once.

Terrified, I breathed heavily and quickly through my nose, almost choked by his fingers and by the sickening, metallic smell of blood on his glove. The last time I had been alone with this man he had tortured me to death. My stomach lurched in anticipation.

He withdrew his hand from atop my mouth but didn’t step back, choosing instead to hang lazily into the locker. His mask drew closer, staring and spectral, and I pressed myself as far back as I could to gain some distance. “Have you missed me, doll?”

I didn’t answer, inhaling and exhaling shakily and quickly. This didn’t please him.

In a second, his knife was drawn. He plunged it into the back of the locker, directly at the side of my face- nicking the edge of my cheek.

I heard him exhale behind his mask. “Fuck, doll. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But it’s rude to ignore it when someone asks you a question.”

I gulped. The scrape on the edge of my face was thin and shallow, but a sparkling row of crimson droplets wept from it anyway. I was always a bleeder. Vaccination? Paper cut? Sliced my finger cutting vegetables? It was as if my body was over dramatic, responding in the extreme to any slight damage. “What do you want me to say?” I managed, shakily, forcing myself to look at the two black holes where his eyes were hidden.

“That’s a dangerous question,” Ghostface hummed, stepping back from the locker. “Come with me.” It might have been a command, but he gave me no chance to follow it. His arms reached around me and he lifted me over his shoulder, as if I weighed nothing. I didn’t try to struggle free. I had never been a fast runner.

I closed my eyes, feeling tears barely stay at bay. Killers were killers. I could handle murder now. I could handle these trials. It hurt and it horrified me but I knew the drill. This though? This left me in the dark. Total unknown. Ghostface frightened me like I’d never been frightened before.

What felt like minutes later, I was lowered, somewhat gently, onto a couch. I recognised where we were as the centre of the empty lodge in Ormond. The fire was crackling to the right of me but it didn’t fight the chill I felt when I looked at the man that had carried me here.

A moment later, I found a voice. “When are you going to kill me?”

Silence. Ghostface hovered over me, unblinking and threatening in his black attire and plastic mask. Then: “Soon, I think.”

I nodded, taking in the situation I was in. “I see. Well, can we get it over with?” I asked.

“Why?” Ghostface asked in response, and I frowned.

“Because I don’t want to be tortured?”

“But if it’s not me, it will only be someone else.”

“They just kill me- you do something else.”

“Oh, and what do I do, doll?”

“You take sick, weird pleasure in it.”

Ghostface laughed, I think. He leaned in close to me again, and used his thumb to lift his mask slightly. I saw his chin and jawline, sharp and square and manly, and then felt the wet heat of his tongue at my cheek. Licking the cut he’d given me earlier. The action made an obscene noise. I squeezed my legs together, mortified by the throb I felt below my abdomen.

Close to my ear, he clicked his tongue softly before whispering, “You’re right, I do take pleasure in it, baby. And I’ve taken a shine to you.” He withdrew, and dropped to his knees in front of where I sat. His mask was level with my face and I swallowed loudly, looking at the human features he’d revealed. “Want to see?” he asked, a smirk on his pink, full lips.

I didn’t nod, but he could surely see it in my eyes. I was curious. In response, he reached up as though about to push the mask up. At the last second, he stopped. “Too bad, beautiful.” He pulled the mask down, and with that the shutters closed, the hint of humanity I’d seen disappeared. “We’re just not there yet. And there are some other things I’d rather do first.”

I tried not to let my face betray the disappointment I felt, and looked at the floor. Seconds later, a soft whistle told me to look up, and Ghostface held his knife again. “Now, now. We’re gonna have a little fun.” In his black gloved hand, the knife descended, slowly and carefully to my chest. He stopped when the tip just barely grazed my flesh. “Make your pretty noises for me again, and I promise I’ll reward you, doll.” His other hand rested at my waist, and he stroked my clothed skin with seeming reverence.

With a slash, his silver hunting knife sliced a deep cut across the bare chest revealed by the top I had on. I gasped at the way it stung, fresh and sharp and agonising. The blood spilled almost instantly and began to pool between my breasts, staining the nude bra I wore. He didn’t stop there. Far from it. In fact, his carving was incessant- not too shallow, not too deep, quick, deliberate- as if he were creating a pattern across my flesh. I didn’t beg for mercy, but I felt the tempo of my breathing quicken and slow and slow and quicken and I whimpered softly, surely, melodiously. I let myself cry but didn’t sob. At the sound, the man behind the mask moaned roughly and leaned closer to me.

“You’re perfect,” he groaned as his knife penetrated, slowly, through the jeans I wore and into the thick flesh of my thigh. I felt the blade pierce my skin and delve deeper, deeper, hotter, searing, torturous pain. I cried out, biting my lip and squeezing my eyes shut. “Fuck, don’t close your eyes, look at me-” he twisted the knife until I looked at the black mesh covering his eyes.

With the knife still in my leg, I tried in vain to regulate my laboured breathing. In, out, in out, in out. Ghostface withdrew, settling between my legs on the floor. He leaned his head against the thigh he hadn’t run through before speaking. “Your blood is like something out of a movie, you know,” the man murmured, sultry and slow and dreamy. His breath felt hot against my leg, but that might have been my imagination. Surely my brain had no space to process any more sensation than the pain of being stabbed. “It just pours. Like wine. Shit, when I pull this knife out, you’ll probably go dizzy from blood loss. Fuck…”

“You’re sick.” I managed weakly, feeling pale and tired.

Above me, the looming dark shadow seemed to twist and mutate with the red stain in my eyes. I didn’t know how long I had been down here, in this basement where the walls seemed to groan with torment, but the monster who had hauled me here hadn’t spoken this whole time.

I was dying. I knew that much. Of course, being here, in this place, meant being intimately familiar with the concept of death. I had died a hundred, a thousand times over. The pain did not subside. The pain did not become normal. I did not grow used to it.

The gash in my stomach was deep. By now, I was surely lying in a pool of my own blood. The figure above me had to know that I was dying too: their fourth and final victim. I had stayed hidden from them for so long, or at least I thought I had…

“P-please… Just kill me.” I begged softly, my voice cracking. Tears brimmed at my eyes and slipped past my waterline, mixing with my blood and descending in soft pink trails down my cheeks. My arms were trapped behind me, and a black, heavy combat boot pressed roughly into my stomach, agitating my bleeding wound and pinning me against the cold, filthy ground. The foot that held me down twisted slowly and deliberately, and I gasped from the flash of agony it unleashed. “Just kill me, please…”

The weight lifted from my stomach. I breathed shakily. But the instant of relief this granted didn’t last long and the dull, throbbing ache of the hole in my abdomen seemed to reverberate tenfold. I was bleeding more heavily now, the makeshift tourniquet that was his dirty boot removed.

The shadow bent their knees, lowering into a crouch beside me and a white mask came into view: a face distorted into a silent scream. I didn’t recognise him, and I knew the Entity must have claimed another for its sick games. “Now, now, doll,” a smooth tenor murmured, voice muffled but firm. “Why would I end our fun so soon?” From his sheath, he drew a shining silver knife that glinted even in the dim light of the basement. His hands were gloved in black leather, dulled by darkened, dried blood. “I’m not done with you yet…”

I whimpered as the blade approached, and I felt its sharp tip caress the side of my face. Down, down, down, down it traced, crossing the skin of my neck and the outline of my rounded breast. The shadow whistled softly, lowly, hungrily. “You’re some woman, doll. They don’t make them like you often…”

Whilst the knife trailed my abdomen lazily, his other hand followed it. His touch was gentle- featherlight- and it made me lightheaded that there was something undoubtedly enticing, something shameful and immodest, that made me feel… something alongside my fear. His hand halted above the puncture in my stomach, and I breathed quickly and unsteadily as he brushed the leather of his glove along the laceration.

Suddenly, he thrust a finger into my open wound.

I gasped, shrieked, writhed. Pain. Hot. Thrash.

My eyes, blinking and squeezing shut, unleashed a fresh wave of hot tears, provoked by the immense agony of his sick action. It was torture. Within me, his finger squelched until he withdrew, holding his hand up and examining it.

His black, gloved forefinger glistened in the dim light. A moment later, he used his thumb to catch the underside of his white plastic mask, which he lifted from his chin- just enough to reveal a sharp, masculine jawline and plump, pink lips. I gulped.

With an indecent pop, he sucked his bloody finger into his mouth and then released it. A drop of my blood trickled past his smirk. He swallowed slowly, pointedly, sensually and I watched, rapt, horrified, entranced, as the tip of his pink tongue darted out and licked the final remnant from his bottom lip. What in the hell was wrong with him?

“Please…” I whined, paralysed by terror, my voice shaking. “Just, please, kill me…”

As I filled out the forms on my desk I snuck occasional glances at the hulking man sitting in front of me. He dwarfed the office chair he was sitting in. Since he had entered and the air had settled, I noted that I could smell a musky, spicy scent that must have been him and that was hugely pleasant. Apparently this man was masculinity personified.

He wore a leather jacket with a tight fitting black t-shirt and cargo pants, with what looked like military issue boots. Around his neck he wore several dog tags, and when he stretched they clinked gently together. I thought about the muscles beneath his jacket and chided myself silently.

I filled out another row of my form, aware of every breath I took and every scratch of my pen across the page, before I broke. “So, do you enjoy coming and visiting the offices, Captain?” I asked, breaking our silence.

“Of course. It’s always a pleasure to meet the people on the other side of our operations.” Chris answered, and I hummed gently in response. If he liked it so much, why was he hiding in my office? As if he had heard my thoughts, he continued, “It can get a little overwhelming, is all. I’m not as much of a people person as I used to be.” There was something very telling in his words, and he shrugged his broad shoulders. Of course, I knew of the trauma Captain Redfield had been through. Of what he’d lost. But seeing horror as words on a page versus in reality… I couldn’t comprehend it.

I nodded slowly before speaking. “I get that. Honestly, my job is all about people but outside of my role I’m not so great with them.”

“What makes you say that?”

I resisted the urge to laugh at how deep our conversation had gotten. “People tire me out. They always expect something of you. For you to be clever, or to be funny, or kind… I just like to be.”

Chris nodded but said nothing. I returned to my paperwork, but I was aware of his watchful eyes on me. His gaze made me feel electrified- like a current was running through the air.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Robinson appeared again. “My apologies, Captain Redfield, but I really must insist that we get on with your tour!” I rolled my eyes at the pink faced man. Wonder how many times he had to say that to himself before coming in here.

“Of course.” Chris smiled up at him charmingly, and I wondered if having some silence had recharged his social batteries. He looked back at me and I met his steely blue gaze. Electric. His voice was serious and low as he said, “It was really good to meet you.”

“And you, Captain Redfield.”

We shook hands again, and his grip, whilst firm, was strangely tender. “Maybe we’ll cross paths again soon?” He added as he headed for the door.

“I hope so, Captain.” I smiled, before realising what I’d said. Pathetic much.

Chris gave me an interested look and smiled very slightly back. He bit his lip and I felt my stomach lurch at the sight of it. “So do I. See you around.”

Chris scratched the back of his neck, his short and tidy fingernails not quite up to the task. In all his years working for the BSAA, he had visited its UK headquarters a total of four times. Now five. The hum of the air conditioning and the clacking of keyboards swirled around his head and made him feel strangely claustrophobic.

“Captain Redfield?” A tall, beautiful blonde smiled at him with white flashing teeth from behind the front desk. “They’re ready for you now.” She nodded towards the door and Chris gave a small grunt of assent. Her eyes twinkled appreciatively as she watched Chris’s long, burly body rise and stride only somewhat hesitantly towards the board room. The boardroom door swung shut and he disappeared into it.

At the opposite end of the waiting room, a skinny man of average height let out a low whistle. He pushed his glasses up his nose with one hand then used the same hand to stir a cup of tea, clinking the spoon noisily on the pot. He shook his head. “Shit… Now, that’s a man.”

“Klaus!” The receptionist chided with a laugh, before giving the man a winning smile. “I know, right?”

“I’d climb him like a tree.” Klaus smirked, taking a sip of his tea. At that moment, another woman appeared at his shoulder, giving him a look of immense disapproval.

“What are we climbing today?” she deadpanned, frowning as she elbowed gently past him. “Not that I’m sure I want to know.”

“Don’t tell her Anna- she’s no fun.” Klaus said in a stage whisper to the receptionist. The second woman’s frown grew further but she said nothing as she placed a stack of papers on the front desk.

“It’s Captain Redfield.” Anna answered excitedly, pointing to the board room and ignoring Klaus’s tut. “He’s in a meeting with the higher ups but then I think they’re gonna have him tour the office. He looks like he could throw a person across a room.”

“Built like an actual brick shit house,” Klaus added before murmuring dreamily, “I’d pay him to throw me across the room.”

“I wish I could literally throw you across the room.” The second woman muttered, but there was humour and fondness behind her expression. She shook her head and pointed at what she’d placed on the desk, getting ready to head back to her own office. “Those papers are for Tokyo. By this afternoon, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” Anna teased, crossing her tanned legs and sitting back in her seat. Her three inch stilettos clicked together as she watched the sensible black loafers of the woman walking out of the room.

“You know, for somebody with the title of Relationships Manager it’s shocking that you’re so uninterested in scandal!” Klaus called, clinking his spoon around his mug again.

I sighed and shook my head. Really, I was disappointed in myself. Years- literal years- I’d worked at the BSAA. Met attractive men- big, solid, muscular men. And managed not to swoon.

Of course, it would be the literal golden boy of the company that cracked my composure. And the issue was that although he wasn’t present, for me he kind of was. 80% of my work centred around his actions and the actions of his teams so it seemed like his last name crossed my lips at least a couple of times an hour. And now, every time it did, I thought of the handsome, hulking human I’d had the good fortune to temporarily breathe the same air as.

The shrill sound of my phone snapped me out of my thoughts. Back to it then. “Good afternoon, BSAA Relationships Manager speaking.”

“Hey, good afternoon. Chris Redfield here.” His voice was rough and low at the other end of the phone, and he said my name softly in greeting.

“Captain,” I answered, surprised. What on Earth was this all about? My mind raced. Did he have a favour to ask? Was there some kind of problem? I knew that he was on location in Bangkok, but he and his team had arrived there only a few hours ago. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah. All good here. I just wanted to give you a head’s up that you’ll probably be hearing from the consulate here fairly soon- we had a little brush with the local police at an incident in Huai Khwang- nothing to worry about but they’ll probably want some buttering up- you know what they were like last time we were here-“

I laughed gently. “Yes, I do. Thanks for the warning, I appreciate that.”

“Of course. It’s good to hear you again.”

“And you, Captain.”

The line went silent for a moment. “How’s HQ?”

“Same old, same old,” I answered, looking down at my fingernails. I couldn’t help but smile and I wasn’t entirely sure why. “We get on with it. How’s fighting bad guys?”

Chris laughed. “Same old, same old. We’re holed up just outside of the city and we’ve got eyes on our target so it’s just a waiting game at this point.”

I nodded, as if I understood. I smoothed things over politically, but that didn’t mean I had any real intel until long after the squad’s missions were complete. Suddenly, I realised he couldn’t actually see me and remembered to open my mouth and speak. “Of course. That must be hard. Or boring? I don’t know, I guess. I spend so much time talking about you and I seem to have just realised I have no idea what you do.”

“Fight bad guys. Make messes. That about covers it.”

“Ah, so actually I have a pretty comprehensive understanding then,” I smirked.

The title of Relationships Manager was more for show than anything. My job was quite simply to clean up messes. Smoothing over was my specialty; mediation and ultimately conflict resolution. The majority of those conflicts involved Captain Redfield himself, and the trail of disruption his team left behind. As much as he was the golden boy of the BSAA, he had a propensity to completely ignore the plans laid out in the office. Not that that bothered me; it kept me in a job. Much of my days were spent on the phone to various government officials, sweet talking and letting them know that dear Captain Redfield never intended any disruption.

My thoughts drifted to the man whose name I must have said a million times. Klaus and Anna were ridiculous, but I had to admit I was naturally curious about meeting him. I’d seen pictures, and I knew he was handsome, and I knew his professional career in detail of course- but his presence would surely be another thing entirely. The thought gave me butterflies and I wasn’t totally sure why.

Currently, I was on the phone to an aide at the Spanish embassy. Redfield’s squad had passed through a rural lab just outside of Murcia a few weeks ago and there had been… an outcry. To say the least. Luckily, as poor I might be in my social life day to day, I was damn good at my job. “…Yes, Mr Hernandez, Captain Redfield will be so happy to hear that. I’ll pass the message on. Thank you very much for your time.”

I set my work phone down onto the table. Another mess cleaned up- now for the paperwork. Just as I reached for a fresh set of forms, there was a tentative knock at my office door. I frowned up at the frosted glass for a moment before calling, “Come in!”

My expression soured even as I tried to school it. Robinson’s pink, smarmy face had appeared at my door. I wasn’t a fan of the guy. It wasn’t that he was bad, per se- just that I found him entirely sycophantic and I couldn’t abide it. Awkwardly, he hesitated in the doorway and twiddled his thumbs for a second. I gave him a cool, expectant face. “Yes?”

“Ah, I’m sorry to interrupt your work, ma’am-” No, you’re not, “-but I have someone here for you to meet.” Robinson stepped into my office and beckoned for the person to follow him in. “Captain Redfield, this is our Relationships Manager…”

It was about all I could do to offer a small smile. Handsome didn’t begin to cover Chris Redfield. The infamous Captain standing in the doorway of my office was so incredibly good looking that it almost took my breath away. He towered at over six feet tall, with broad, masculine shoulders. His soft brown hair was close cropped at the side but longer in the front, and it framed his angular, serious face perfectly. When I met his gaze, his blue eyes were steely and captivating and he gave me a gentle, good natured smile before extending his hand for me to shake.

I scrambled up out of my chair as delicately as I could manage so that I could take his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Captain Redfield.” The older man’s large hand was calloused against mine, but not rough. He squeezed mine firmly in his and I refused to melt- but by god were Klaus and Anna right. I would quite literally let this man throw me across a room.

“The pleasure is all mine and, please, call me Chris,” he said. His voice was a deep, earthy baritone and his accent was smooth, like an expensive whiskey. I nodded, knowing full well I would not have the confidence to call this absolute unit of a man by his first name. “Can I ask, what exactly does the role of Relationship Manager entail?”

“Generally following whatever path you and your squad have been on and cleaning up the destruction you’ve left behind,” I answered with a laugh. “The Spanish embassy says hello, by the way.”

An abrupt inhale from Robinson made me concerned I’d said the wrong thing. I glanced at him and he looked as though he’d sucked all the air out of the room but still might suffocate. Only a moment had ticked by but time appeared to have frozen. Hesitantly, I opened my mouth to potentially begin an apology but when I looked back at Captain Redfield his expression had spread into an amused grin.

“Honesty. I like it,” he laughed harshly, “Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t have been too happy about what went down in Los Rodeos.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “All okay now though?”

“Of course. I’m good at my job, Captain.”

“I’m sure.”

Robinson frowned at me. “Yes, well, anyway, the Captain has-“

“Do you mind if I sit?” The Captain asked me abruptly, pointing at the seat opposite my desk. I shook my head, gesturing for him to take it. “Mr Robinson, I think I’ll have to take a break. I’ll come and find you shortly.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing as Robinson, now almost entirely fuchsia, shot me a look of complete and utter dislike before he left the room he had effectively been dismissed from.

Redfield lowered himself into the chair opposite my desk and I settled back into my seat. He sighed softly and seemed to relax. I followed his eyes as he looked around my office, feeling oddly exposed. He noticed me watching and said quietly, “Please don’t let me interrupt you. Feel free to keep working.”

Was I embarrassed? Flustered? I didn’t know. Honestly, all I could comprehend was how he’d seemed to command the room from the moment he entered it, and upon his departure it felt empty. I supposed that was why he was the golden boy of the BSAA. Presence. Charisma. Enormous muscles.

For the entirety of the rest of the day, I didn’t cross paths with him again. Just like that, his fleeting visit to headquarters was over.

I felt strange. I now possessed a level of context and understanding of this man- this man that I spent my days talking about- which I’d never had before. And that should have been a good thing. Right? But it left me feeling something else. Something that I very much didn’t want to call longing.

When I packed up my things at the end of the day, I passed Robinson bragging to Klaus and Anna about his day with the Captain. “He told me he was very impressed with how I conducted his tour!”

Oh, yeah, sure. Anna’s long legs were folded across one another and she’d wheeled her office chair out from behind the front desk to get closer to the conversation. She leaned her elbows on the side and raised an eyebrow. “Do you think he’s single? Did he say anything about a partner?”

Robinson turned pink, as if utterly scandalised by such a suggestion. “This visit was entirely professional! We discussed no such topic!”

Leaning against the wall, Klaus rolled his eyes from where the smaller man couldn’t see him. “I’ve heard he’s like unofficially with Captain Valentine. Has been ever since they were our age. And she’s like, brave and muscly and shit. Plus they have that whole ‘I rescued you from certain doom’ thing going for them. So I don’t think you’re his type, Anna.”

“Psh, I’m everybody’s type.”

I laughed at that because she was right. “Have a good night, you guys!” I called and they waved me off.

Listening to suits who’d never been out from behind their desks was not in Chris’ nature. But he’d been at this job long enough now to know that if he nodded and shook hands with people instead of frowning and disagreeing he tended to get away with what he wanted once he was back in the field anyway. He knew all about giving people the illusion of control.

“…Obviously, the Lanshiang incident was regrettable, but ultimately we achieved the required result…” A flame of anger shot up in Chris’ chest. Regrettable. Regrettable. Biting his lip, he took another deep breath through his nose. Nodded. Thanked Christ he hadn’t listened to his sister’s pleas this morning and put a shirt and tie on because if he had he might have strangled himself with it.

The drone of the meeting went on for about an hour. It ended with a balding, short and enthusiastic man named Robinson announcing that he would be taking the captain on a tour of the headquarters to meet some of the other staff. The urge to roll his eyes and run in the other direction was so narrowly avoided that Chris could actually feel the muscles in his legs tense. Why had he stopped drinking again?

As they passed the waiting room and front desk, Chris noticed that a man had joined the girl at the front desk- they wore identical expressions as they smiled suggestively at him. The metallic clink of a spoon against a mug could be heard. Chris smiled back. He owed it to Claire to at least try to be good-natured today.

The tour started in Weapon Acquisitions. To be fair, this part didn’t bother Chris nearly as much as he thought it would. Robinson seemed to bark at the side of him like an excited chihuahua whenever he introduced him to someone or showed him into a room, but Chris found that he was met with appreciative glances from much of the staff. A young woman with short, cropped black hair excitedly told him about their new RPGs which had a 1000 round lifespan. She held a prototype out to him and Chris nodded and touched it and it didn’t make his stomach lurch. For some reason it lacked it seemed to lack its deadliness, in the cold light of day, in this office.

They moved on through IT, which was two floors worth of people and Robinson was not content for Chris to miss a single handshake, and then on to Communications. It wasn’t surprising that his name held weight. He knew that he was the BSAA’s most prized agent, although sometimes he felt he didn’t deserve to be when it came down to all the lives he’d lost. But those were expendable for the greater good. The thought made him want to punch something and he found himself squeezing a little too tight on a handshake with a weedy ginger man called Terence.

It had been around an hour. Admittedly, his patience, which had been painstakingly acquired through years of work, was now wearing thin. Robinson stopped in front of a frosted glass door which seemed to lead into a small office. He rubbed his little pink hands together and seemed to look at the door with trepidation. “This is our Relationships Manager- we won’t be long, just pop in, introduce ourselves and out-“ Chris raised his eyebrows and let the man ready himself.