At first it might be cute, the way she seizes his wrist and leads him down the dark, lengthy tunnel strung (mostly) with green Christmas lights. After that, it’s so dark that only she can see, though she does slow here so he doesn’t lose his footing. At last, she stops Chris on what feels like a solid floor — not dirt — and there is a momentary delay before she clicks on a flashlight.
She must have had this tunnel dug into the collapsed part of the facility, because there are no lights or machinery hums. It is cut off, and that is precisely why she’s chosen it as her armory — her personal armory. The flashlight passes slowly across an arsenal which, as he sees more, is clearly selected for a singular purpose.
Rocket and grenade launchers, a couple of large-caliber sniper rifles, a pair of shotguns, half a dozen magnum pistols. There are no carbines or light sidearms here, and beneath it all is a veritable stockpile of ammunition: all either armor-piercing, or incendiary, or both.
“When Revenant is ready, we’re gonna go pay our mutual friend a visit.”
And even the score, is the part that goes unsaid.
He trusts her implicitly. He’s learnt this—he’s had to. Chris Redfield has no choice. To call him a mercenary would be generous, though it is the closest descriptor he can conjure on short notice.
It’s always into the dark, where he is led. His whole life, he has been led into the dark. The darkness promises no light at the end of any tunnel. It promises perpetual shadow, in which he must hide himself away, but from whom? From myself.
Sarah is leading him into the dark, promising nothing, only vengeance, or the chance at vengeance. They will become judge, jury, and executioner to a being who has taken more lives than he has any right to take, and worse—one who has twisted lives into unlife, and used them for his own ends. Chris has heard that when someone plots revenge, they’d best dig two graves. That’s fine, he thinks to himself, and then pauses, realizing that, for once, he might be wrong.
Vengeance and justice walk together, hand in hand, on occasion, and Sarah Hawker understands this. Slowly, Chris has begun to understand it as well—or rather, to believe it. He’s spoken the words, and pursued the goals of vengeance under the guise of justice. Now, he realizes, there is no guise, and for them, it is both. And perhaps always has been.
Maybe just one grave… a big one.
“Housewarming gift,” he grunts, thinking of Leon’s dry delivery and almost laughing. “Classy.”
