As we stood there, I wondered how many schemes and secrets were concealed beneath the magnificent glass dome that stretched endlessly above me. My gaze lingered on the array of faces among the attendees—some I recognized from television appearances, others I had encountered during their visits at my father's office, but quite a few remained unrecognizable to me.
It wasn't as if I was the only one surveilling, I could feel stares, like searing daggers, being shot at Claire and I from around the monumental hall.
Attending public events is SO not my cup of tea.
"So, how's Chris doing?" I asked Claire, attempting to shift my focus away from the uncomfortable atmosphere; I knew I had to endure it for a while longer.
Claire, on the other hand, didn't seem fazed by people leering at her, as if she had grown accustomed to such attention."Oh, you can ask him that yourself! He's probably brooding in a corner somewhere here, or mingling with other associates of BSAA, discussing work," she replied with a hint of amusement.
Hmm, the BSAA members are attending too...I'll need to get hold of the guest list later.
"Like sister, like brother," I teased, and Claire chuckled, lightly smacking my arm.
"That reminds me, I should go check up on him," Claire said, pushing herself away from the table. She turned to me and asked, "Care to join? My sister radar tells me he would be at the bar, drinking way more than he should."
I nodded in agreement, and together we set off towards the other end of the annular room, navigating around the edges to avoid the bustling dance floor at the centre. As we were walking, a voice boomed over the hall.
"Respected guests, may I have your kind attention, please?" A short, plump-looking man standing on the mezzanine addressed the crowd.
"Is that TerraSave's Executive Director, Alec D. Russell?" I whispered to Claire.
"Yup, that's my boss," Claire confirmed with a nod, as we halted to listen.
"Before anything else, I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to all of you, lovely people, for your generous donations in the cause of pushing back against bioterrorism. Team TerraSave and I assure you that each and every penny raised at this event will be responsibly used to provide aid to those who have suffered from these incidents all around the world, ensuring safe drug development and distribution of vaccines," his voice rang clear in the hall, rousing a wave of murmurs. When he spoke, his hand movements exhibited a theatrical flair, accentuating his statement and creating a grand display.
We both listened intently as Alec went on outlining TerraSave's plan of action and long-term goals. However, the audience appeared to reflect a mix reaction.
There were a few individuals who showed determination and support for TerraSave's cause. Their faces were filled with unwavering concentration as they hung onto Alec's every word. It was evident that they sympathized with the victims, and believed in the organization's mission to minimize such tragedies from happening again.
In contrast, the majority seemed entirely indifferent or skeptical about the whole thing. The roll of their eyes and austere body language conveyed a lack of interest and doubt, something Alec was failing to overcome in spite of his passionate speech.
Perhaps they are just uncertain about the effectiveness of the NGO's efforts, I thought. It wasn't uncommon for people to hold a pessimistic view towards charitable organizations, especially when it came to a complex issue like bioterrorism.
But looking around, I knew deep down that these people only cared about the social aspect of the event, and they had nothing to do with the cause itself. I clenched my fists, digging my fingers into my palms, in an attempt to stifle all the frustration inside me.
"Please, does he think this is some kind of a geek convention? Every year we stuff their pockets with heaps of cash, and for what? So we could be bored to death listening to their tales of incompetence? An experience as lethal as the T-Virus." A tipsy lady behind us cackled at her own joke. The sound of her laughter gave me a sickly feeling in my stomach, filling me with disgust.
Claire, too, shared my sentiments, judging from the sour expression that contorted her face upon hearing the comment.
She closed her eyes for a meditative minute or two. "These people are only here to flaunt their generosity, we both know they don't give a damn about what's happening out there. Year after year they just find excuses to throw extravagant balls," she spat, gritting her teeth.
"Here are your requested drinks, ma'am," a waiter, holding a tray of three different sparkling wines, interrupted. The beverages were accompanied by place cards, each displaying the name of the drink: black pearls, yellow diamonds, and opal ice. Although I hadn't ordered them, I instantly knew who they were from; it was a code we had agreed upon to discreetly communicate with one another.
"Thank you, just the black pearls, please—oh, if you don't mind," I reached out to grab the place card with it. Claire gave me a curious look, the kind she wore when intrigued, silently prompting for an explanation. If my response fell short, I knew her investigative instincts would take over.
Maybe our way of communicating wasn't discreet enough. I'm toastttt if she gets suspicious!
"I had Mr. Sherman order me a drink," I answered her unspoken question as the waiter walked away with the other drinks. "But he got one too many, as I left the choice up to him. One of the perks of being the President's daughter: you get a wholesale deal on everything."
I felt awful about lying to her. But there were some secrets I couldn't risk exposing to anybody. I suppose tonight, I was just another person hiding behind a facade.
She nodded and eyed the card in my hand. But before she could further press, a woman—most likely the emcee—stepped forward with the microphone to announce my father's arrival. "Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming to the stage President Graham," she called with enthusiasm. My father gracefully ascended the stairs leading to the gallery, the applause that accompanied him grew louder than the rumbling thunder outside.
I took this opportunity to peek at the folded side of the sturdy paper, and there, in the writing as familiar as my own, was hastily scrawled 'Restroom Now'. I quickly crumpled the card and just as I was about to excuse myself from Claire's company, I found myself froze midway in my tracks. My head snapped towards my dad, but it was not his commanding presence that captivated me. Instead, it was the riveting gaze of the man standing right behind him, his eyes bluer than the serene morning sky, yet burning with an intensity that rivaled the scorching sun on a summer afternoon. In the sea of faces, our eyes locked, and the world around me faded into the background. Even in this crowded room, Leon and I had managed to find each other.
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I wanted to end the last chapter here, so this is kind of like chapter 2.5. Let me know your thoughts, and thanks for reading!
Edit: Sorry I had to take this part out.
But I fixed the convo between Piers and Ashley. Let me know if it's okay! Thx (:
Edit 2: Many things have been changed in the chapter (Piers is no longer part of the scene)
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RESIDENT EVIL • Assignment Ashley: Rescue Condor One (RE4)
FanfictionIt's been 5 years since the traumatic experience which permanently changed Ashley Graham's life. Even though she tries to put it all behind herself, she knows she can never go back to being the girl she was before the kidnapping. Therefore, instead...
